Psych
by uberneko-zero
Summary: Sometimes the strangest of happenings, by that merit alone, are the most memorable. Lawliet, a professional who makes his living by understanding the workings of the human mind, finds that a chance meeting throws him a real curve. Yaoi. As always, it will be of the L and Light variety
1. Sidney

**Psych**  
Death Note AU  
(L/Light or Light/L)

* * *

**Summary:**Sometimes the strangest of happenings, by that merit alone, are the most memorable. Lawliet, a professional who makes his living by understanding the workings of the human mind, finds that a chance meeting throws him a real curve. Yaoi. (As always, it will be of the L and Light variety)

**Disclaimer:**I do not own anything pertaining to Death Note, which is property of Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. I do, however, claim ownership over both my story ideas and OCs. :)

* * *

Chapter 1: Sidney

The dark-haired figure staggered in the alley, shoulder bumping roughly up against the muted red bricks as he made his way through the drunken labyrinth of the passageway.

Another day, another night. Another bust.

His fists clenched briefly and a laugh burbled up in his throat, as wrong as the salt of tears.

_I am more than this. Aren't I? _

* * *

Lawliet pushed his rectangular, black-framed glasses up his nose with an eloquent gesture that practically screamed 'consummate professional'. He should know. He'd practiced it with unrelenting focus until it was perfect.

"Now tell me, Mr. Saizawa, at what point in time did you realize that your wife was part of a secret organization?"

The dark-haired man before him looked spooked. Rightly so, with what he'd come to learn about his partner's personal life.

His client cleared his throat. "A-About four months ago." He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"And you fear for your safety, correct?"

The man looked left, then right. "She doesn't know I'm here. I mean, she shouldn't know I'm here. Does she? I didn't tell her anything and I watched for tails."

"I'm quite sure she is unaware of your location, Mr. Saizawa. No need to worry."

His client breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good."

"Now tell me, at what point did you realize she was consorting with aliens?"

* * *

Lawliet breathed a ragged sigh of exhaustion as he closed his office door for the evening. There were times he wondered what the hell he was doing working in this field. He had no particular affinity for people. Not to mention having a wreck of a personal life. And yet, he had always been told what a great listener he was. Go figure. Maybe psychiatry had held the promise of allowing him to see behind the scenes and make greater sense of the human condition. Or maybe he'd pursued it merely upon someone's suggestion, and had failed to see any reason not to. Nothing else was standing out to him anyway. Why not?

He laughed to himself - somewhat bitterly, he thought in the back of his mind - as he descended the steps to the ground floor. It was amusing, in a dark sort of way. People sought him, hoping for answers. It was a classic case of the blind leading the blind. Not that he made them aware of this fact. It wouldn't do anything to help them, after all. Besides, most of them just wanted someone to listen to them. And he was a great listener.

He crossed the parking lot and took out his keys. It was rainy tonight. Good thing he'd decided to drive.

The car he drove was, perhaps, not what one would expect a successful doctor of any sort to be driving. Simple, white, certainly far from new. He'd gotten a good deal on it. It drove pretty nicely, being of German make, and only stalled out on the rarest of occasions. The interior was black leather and was fairly worn. The sunroof leaked, as it was doing now, and the intermittent drip kissed the tip of his shoulder, bleeding through the fabric of his grey suit jacket. It was a beautiful night out. Good thing he'd recently changed out his wiper blades for ones that actually worked.

Home wasn't too far away, just a short, ten-minute drive, depending on traffic.

He was renting a small condo in a building that looked much like a hotel. The doors at the entrance were glass with long, brass handles. There was a man stationed at them, dressed in a red suit, who would open one before you could so much as lift an arm to let yourself in. The lobby was tiled with expensive marble flooring and housed a long mahogany counter where three bright-looking, professionally dressed women smiled from their stations, waiting to be of assistance.

"Good evening, Doctor," the blonde one said with a wink. The other two sent him friendly looks as well.

"Good evening," he replied cordially with a nod.

They'd weaseled information out of him early on, in his attempt to be polite and passably social with them. Curse them.

"Hot date tonight?" the curly-haired brunette asked as he stood at the elevator, praying for it to hasten his encounter with his waiting bed.

He gave a sheepish smile over his shoulder. "Not tonight." It was a not-so-subtle dig for opportunity. He didn't want to be bothered. But it wouldn't do to be rude.

"Would you like one?" she suggested slyly.

The doors chimed and slid open. He stepped into the elevator and turned to face the opening. "I'm afraid I'd make for dull company," he said, touching his brow in a vague salute.

She pouted, starting to protest, as the doors slid closed.

Doctor.

The title had a ring to it. And a smell too, perhaps. The smell of money. He didn't blame them for being interested. Then again, he didn't blame himself for being uninterested.

He wasn't rich. Not by any means. But he did well enough. He might do better if he charged as much as some of his colleagues, or if he was as free with writing prescriptions as they, but he had some standards, ethics and the like that dictated that he march to a different drum. He was in it to help people. To "fix" them. Not with drugs or intensive treatment plans, but by learning them from the ground up. It took some effort digging around in their brains, encouraging them to open up. Above all, he listened. It still amazed him how much good simply _listening _to them could do. Not everyone needed drugs. Some just needed a safe place to break down, be themselves, or be accepted.

_Ah, home,_ he thought as he crossed the threshold.

His abode was fairly spartan, but it was clean. Wood floors, black leather couch, a wall-mounted flat screen TV he rarely used which sat over a credenza that managed to irk him a bit every time he looked at it - because he could still remember how overpriced it had been as well as the salesman's smile which had inconceivably persuaded him to buy it.

He sighed and dropped his keys on the counter.

Though his stomach was rumbling, he didn't want to be bothered with preparing something to eat. He loosened his tie and shrugged out of his jacket. _Free at last._

The plush king-size bed in his room beckoned to him like a siren. He trudged up to it and fell face first upon it, bouncing a bit and interring himself there for the night.

His belt buckle was an uncomfortable lump digging into his abdomen, but he didn't care. He would rather fall to sleep fully dressed than wait another moment, wasting time. His clients wore him out most days. But lately he'd been feeling it more than usual. A pervasive exhaustion had set in and had also rendered his brain a tricky thing to manage indeed. Circular thoughts had been cropping up with frequency. Things that should be shrugged off, not dwelt upon. And yet, he was dwelling. Brooding. Becoming restless and discontent.

Sleep should resolve the issue, he told himself. And maybe it would. It was a nice theory. He'd love to test it out. Only problem was this pesky insomnia he'd been experiencing.

* * *

Lawliet entered the doctor's office, having traded his suit and tie at the end of the day with a sloppy white sweater and baggy jeans. His hair, he'd mussed in order to look the part. The glasses he'd stowed in a case in his car, slipping in a pair of contacts. Sometimes he would even forgo shoes, just to see how the doctor handled such a thing. But, tonight, he felt less an exhibitionist than normal so he refrained.

He wasn't sure when or why the idea had come to him to frequent psychiatrists' offices in the city, but it had become something of a habit. Like bar-hopping might be for some people. For him, it could be a catharsis. Or fucking irritating, when it came down to it. But he never knew for sure until he met the psychiatrist. It depended upon them - their personality, professionalism, and their methods of treatment. The good ones left a good impression, making him feel that he had comrades in arms. The bad ones... made him want to kick them in the throat. Repeatedly. Until they either passed out cold or had some sense knocked into them. The very thought of those misguided methods being applied to people who were at their most malleable and vulnerable... it got him all bent out of shape.

_What are you really doing here, Lawliet?_

"What are you doing here, Mr. Lawrence?" the stately, balding psychiatrist asked, breaking into his thoughts and reminding him of where he was and the chair he was sitting in.

_What __**are **__you doing here? What do you hope to accomplish?_

"I'm sorry?" Lawliet asked, distracted. He took pains to shake off his inner monologue. There was an uncomfortably persistent thought clinging in the back of his mind like airy cobwebs, whispering to him of purposelessness, insecurity, and Hope - the last bastion of the desperate.

"I said, what do you hope to accomplish?"

He frowned, hearing his own words spoken back to him. "I'm no different from anyone else," he said a little testily, not liking the man's manner. "I want help." _(And what if that isn't entirely a lie, just for this act of yours?) _The thought came unbidden and unwanted, putting him further on edge.

"Help," the psychiatrist said obtusely, a patented concerned look upon his face. "What sort of help?"

_Oh jeezus. _This guy was rubbing him the wrong way already.

"The kind where you listen to me?" he prompted, annoyance creeping into his voice. "Figure out what's wrong?" Had anyone ever come through this office feeling helped? This guy couldn't even manage the fundamentals.

The portly psychiatrist leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands. His gaze was mildly condescending behind the professional veneer. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you listen to me, hmm? I am the doctor after all."

"Okay." _I want to punch you in the face._

"Why don't we start with a journal? I'd like you to write about your family, some of your earliest good and bad memories, and a little about yourself."

"Don't you want to know _why _I'm here?"

"I should think that's obvious," the man said egotistically.

"Is it?" It was a struggle to keep his voice calm and slightly imploring. He was getting more aggravated by the minute.

The man gave him a cursory glance, obviously noting his appearance. "You are suffering from social anxiety and have been secluding yourself in order to spare yourself the pain of rejection."

"Based on what?" Lawliet asked, his voice starting to really slip. _Appearance alone? Really? _This asshole was making assumptions all over the fucking place. It was so unprofessional and arrogant!

The doctor smiled. "Now, now, Mr. Lawrence, let's keep things professional. I can't discuss trade secrets with you, so how about we start with that journal?"

"I don't have one," L said to be difficult.

"Not a problem. On your way out, see my secretary and she can provide some assistance. You can also request your prescription slip. Unless you'd rather us call it in to the pharmacy on your behalf?"

"Prescription for what?" L muttered.

"All right," the doctor said brightly, obviously looking at the clock. "It looks like our time is up."

Thank god for small favors.

L stood up and saw himself out.

This one was one of those leave-and-then-go-get-drunk sessions. He hated the ones like this. They pissed him off so badly. That someone like that should be allowed to practice!

_What am I looking for? Answers? Ha! Looks like I'm looking in the wrong places._

And perhaps he was. He wanted to know things, like why in the middle of a successful career, and a life that wanted for nothing... why did it feel like all so much emptiness? What was the purpose in life? Where was the meaning?

Heh. The blind leading the blind. They all were. They all sat in their big leather chairs, himself included, pretending to their clients that they had clarity, that they knew the secrets of life, success, and happiness, and would be willing to instill that knowledge, like some great prophet, for only a nominal fee.

What made him think that any of them had the answers when he himself did not? Ridiculous. It was all a sham. Life made no sense. Maybe _that _was the point?

He shuffled into a local dive, set on having one or several libations to soothe the tenor of his thoughts. Belatedly, he remembered his state of dress, and instead of ordering something top shelf, making himself conspicuous, he ordered a beer. He didn't much like beer. But alcohol was alcohol and at the moment, he didn't care. He took a swig and contemplated the shiny surface of the bar.

_When did I start drinking?_With some consternation, he realized he had no idea. It was some time after University.

"Dr. L?" someone said at his elbow. Their voice was full of disbelief. He entertained the possibility of feigning ignorance versus owning up to his identity. Did he want to deal with a patient right now? More importantly, _should _he? Professionalism was of the utmost importance in his line of work and having someone seeing him look shabbily dressed with unkempt hair and a beer in hand... He turned to look at them and assess his course of action depending on who it was.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Lawliet asked, screwing up his face with a look of concentration.

"Yeah, Dr. L, it's Sidney," the man said, his enthusiasm surely meant to jog his memory. "You were the one who got me started on AA. You saved my life!"

"You must have me confused with someone else," he replied, shrugging the man off and taking a hearty swig of beer. _Shit. _Of course he remembered Sidney, though it had been a while since he'd seen him. The man had been a train wreck. It was amazing he was still alive. If not for AA and medical treatment, he wouldn't have been. The last thing he needed was to see his psychiatrist, who had expressly maintained that all alcohol was off limits, out drinking.

"Are you sure?" Sidney laughed, nudging him as if waiting for a responding chuckle. Like teasing between old friends.

"I dunno. I look like a doctor to you?" He drained the rest of the bottle and signaled the bartender for another. "Look at me, man, and you'd see your mistake."

Sidney frowned, taking up residence on the adjacent stool. "But you really look like him. I coulda sworn..."

"By the way, pal," Lawliet drawled. "If some doc saved your life by getting you into AA, what the hell are you doing in a bar?"

Sidney had the good grace to look sheepish. "Well, you see... I got things under control now... and my new girl, she likes to drink a little. I'm fine though. Really."

Chances were, he wasn't letting his girl drink alone. This would be the slippery slope that had landed the man in rehab in the first place, revisited. It was pitiable and also disheartening. He'd worked with Sidney for over two years. He'd been a difficult case and he'd had a propensity for addiction. It was a miracle he'd recovered at all and now he was falling into the exact same patterns. Lawliet shrugged, a response befitting a total stranger, which he was still pretending to be. "Whatever, man, it's your funeral." He tipped his beer bottle in a mock toast as he stared straight ahead, then took a drink. He could see his distorted, dingy reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

The last thing he looked like was a doctor. He looked like a freaking hobo, and not a very good one. (Nothing against hobos, mind you.) Whereas Sidney, confused and slightly offended as he was, looked infinitely more presentable as he stood and muttered, "Jerk."

Lawliet watched him through the mirror's reflection as he made his way back to a table where a pretty girl, presumably the "new" girl, sat. He exchanged some words with her, and she shrugged as he grabbed his coat and donned it. Soon he was exiting the bar without a backward glance.

Well, optimistically, L could hope that he'd jogged the man's memory and sense of survival. Pessimistically, the same might cause a rift in the man's relationship with "new" girl, thus upsetting his fragile equilibrium and causing him to reach for alcohol in order to cope. Hmnn.

He downed the rest of his second beer, deciding to call it quits before some other hapless patient of his had the misfortune of recognizing him.

* * *

TBC

**A/N:** If it seems like a slow start, bear with me! :)


	2. Yamaguchi

**Psych**  
Death Note AU  
(L/Light or Light/L)

* * *

**Summary:**Sometimes the strangest of happenings, by that merit alone, are the most memorable. Lawliet, a professional who makes his living by understanding the workings of the human mind, finds that a chance meeting throws him a real curve. Yaoi. (As always, it will be of the L and Light variety)

**Disclaimer:**Please see Chapter 1 for full disclaimer.

* * *

Chapter 2: Yamaguchi 

Lawliet sat at his desk, in his big leather office chair, tapping a pen gently against his cheek and wondering if he should get a cat or something. His apartment seemed barren even to him and he didn't much enjoy coming home to it, though the promise of rest always welcomed him. Perhaps the welcome of a live creature would feel more pleasant.

Though pets did require additional fees to be added to the rent. Not that he couldn't afford it... but the idea of pet rent did irk him a bit.

Yes, a pet would be reliant on him. It would await his arrival, would seek his presence for companionship. It would provide a reason for him to come home. Not that he wouldn't anyway.

_Ah, yes, but then there is also the burden of responsibility, _he reminded himself. _You would have to change your schedule to suit its needs. _

He couldn't go out at night, for instance, like last night, not when a cat (or whatever) was at home waiting to be fed, talked to, etc.

A soft rapping came at the door. "Doctor? Your two o'clock is here."

"Thank you, Sophie."

_And if I can't go out drinking if I feel the need, how can I possibly entertain my current visits to other psychiatrist offices? _The bad ones would surely sit worse than they had before. The good ones would not be enough to maintain the balance, not without alcohol to see him through.

Lawliet was pulled from his distraction as his client entered the room. "Sidney?" he said with surprise, dutifully pushing his rectangular glasses up his nose.

"Hiya, Dr. L," the man greeted, a smile breaking out on his face as he saw with his own eyes that the man who'd saved his life was indeed himself.

"To what do I owe this visit?" Lawliet asked, leaning forward attentively as Sidney took a seat. "Nothing is wrong, I hope?"

The smile faded a bit and Sidney looked down at his shoes. "I realized something last night, Doc. I've-" he glanced up, looking pained. "I've been falling off the wagon."

"Well now," L said, leaning back in his chair with a frown. "Have you recognized the reasons behind your slip ups? Is there pressure at work? At home? With your kids?"

"No, no, nothing like that."

Sidney had reached his lowest point during the divorce with his wife. He was a young Australian man who liked to have a good time. Things had fallen apart shortly after his wife had borne their second child. She felt it was time they "grew up" and acted more responsible than their previous partying lifestyle allowed, and he'd had problems making the adjustment. His job had also been causing him problems and that had only been feeding the drinking problem until it was completely out of control. As of the last time they'd spoken, his ex-wife was on cordial speaking terms with him and he regularly visited his children. He'd also been working on changing his career, and he'd been dry for over six months.

"What then?"

"Well," Sidney said reluctantly, rubbing a hand over his cropped hair as if embarrassed. "It's the women."

"Go on."

"It's hard to meet people, Doc," the light-haired man implored. "I'm not a church-going type and there isn't a bunch of young blood coming in to the company..."

"So you are trying to meet women at bars?"

"And clubs."

"How is that working for you?"

"Great, actually. But then there is the problem."

"Which is?"

"They like to drink."

"I see." Lawliet scribbled some notes on his tablet to include in the patient file later on. "And you feel pressured to drink?"

"Sort of? I mean, no one is saying anything and yet it's like they think me less of a man for not knocking a few back. It could be all in my head. But still, eventually it got to me. I had a sip. Then another. And another. It tasted so fucking good and right. It was like meeting up with a long lost friend that I hadn't realized was out of touch."

"You do understand why I said you had to avoid alcohol at all costs?"

Sidney sighed.

Lawliet continued. "You aren't like most people. You can't stop. Most people have things inside of them that tell them when enough is enough. You do not, therefore the first sip is as damaging to you as the last sip your body can take. You are an alcoholic, Sidney. Whether you are drinking or not, it's part of who you are and you must never forget that or you may not live to regret it."

"You know, Doc, talking to you makes me feel like shit sometimes."

"Yes?"

"But," the man continued, looking him in the eyes. "I needed that. Really needed it. All the people around me don't get it. They'd just as soon put a beer in my hand as stop to realize they shouldn't."

"All the people? What about AA?"

"I sorta stopped going." He laughed sheepishly. "I kind of figured I was cured."

"You still work out?" Lawliet asked.

"Sure," his patient answered with confusion. "Why?"

"If you stop lifting weights, do your muscles atrophy?"

"You mean get weaker? Sure. But it gets bad over time, missing a few days is no big deal. Missing a few months or even longer would be, though."

"Exactly my point. Your sobriety is like a muscle. You must continue to flex it, strengthen it. And you can help yourself by surrounding yourself with positive influences. Go back to AA. Regularly. Date, but pick a more suitable environment. If that is a problem, then date someone else. If they can't understand that your life is on the line with this, then they will be nothing but a bad influence for you."

"Yeah, Doc," Sidney said quietly. "I know you're right. I know it."

"Don't let this overwhelm you. Start one step at a time. Attend the Alcoholics Anonymous meetings again. Begin there." He smiled at his patient. "Who knows, you might meet someone."

* * *

L was wrapping things up for the day, already thinking of which psychiatrist's office he might try this evening. He usually only went once a week at most, but this week was just shaping up different. Despite his flexible schedule, he didn't like to make a custom of leaving early more often than that, even if it was only an hour or so which allowed him to take another doctor's last appointment of the day.

And still, he kept debating the cat.

He was a bit of a neat freak. How would he handle the inevitable shedding hair? Would a lint roller suffice? Would he notice hair on his couches? Maybe if he got a black cat, he wouldn't even see it.

"Doctor?" a feminine voice queried.

"Yes, Sophie?"

And what sort of food did one feed a cat? Canned? Dry? What was the difference? Was one better than the other? Healthier? By god, now he needed to research pet food. He wouldn't be responsible for providing a miserable quality of life for a creature through poor sustenance. And there had to be a proper balance, certainly, between nutritious and appetizing. Could you make your pet hate you simply for not bearing tasty food? Horrifying thought.

Sophie cleared her throat. He looked up. She had a faint frown on her elfin face and her hands were clasped in front of her. This indicated she didn't particularly like what she was going to say next. "Doctor, I know you said this morning that you might take an early day, but..."

"Yes?"

"Well," she sighed. "A new client just walked in and I just couldn't turn him away, sir."

"Why not?" he asked bluntly, rather confused at this himself. Sophie had never had this sort of problem before. She handled people with great aplomb. It was part of why he paid her so well.

"We could use a few more patients," she said, evading the question. "Isn't that right? So why don't we just get him started? He said that if we couldn't take him today, he'd be happy to go somewhere else."

"We do all right," he responded, but decided to just cut his losses instead of arguing the point. Sophie was an excellent staff member. He didn't feel one deviation or oddity in the years she'd worked for him warranted chiding or discipline. In fact, he was lucky he'd happened across her. She made his life easier. Well, most days. He opened his briefcase back up again and took out his notepad and pen. "Give me a moment and then send him in."

"Yes, sir."

She left the doorway and he stowed his case back under the desk. Leaning back in his chair, he cleared his mind of the things he'd thought he'd be doing later today and focused upon getting back into the headspace needed for doing his job.

"Am I intruding?" a cultured voice politely inquired, catching him off guard.

What a way to make a first impression, he thought scathingly as he popped upright in a hurry, rattling the chair on its wheels. He grabbed his notepad and pen into a ready position as he looked up at the speaker.

A young man in a business suit stood at the doorway smiling charmingly. _Oh boy. _This might be the problem Sophie was having. He was a good-looking fellow, with a meticulously kempt appearance, warm eyes that were somewhere between brown and ruddy amber, and smooth, shiny hair. He didn't look to be so much younger than himself.

Lawliet decided to take the offensive and get things back on track. Perhaps he could restore professionalism to his already compromised performance thus far. "Good afternoon, Mr...?"

"Yamaguchi," he responded simply, still smiling. "May I?" He gestured to a chair with an articulate, manicured hand. L wondered, had he ever seen hands that were so free of imperfection or clumsiness? He didn't think so.

"Certainly, Yamaguchi-san, be my guest."

"That's a funny turn of phrase, is it not?" the brunet commented as he was seated. "For the very act of my paying you to be in this room makes you something of a business partner. Just so, this chair would rightly be mine to take without your leave, would it not?"

That beatific smile remained in place, not fading a watt.

"That would be a way to look at it." Charm was not without its sharp edges. He'd anticipated a catch. And this young man had charisma and confidence practically lifting off of him in waves. It put L on edge but it did not show in his demeanor. The pretty ones were always such head cases. "Of course, you might also view your patronage as a salve against your intrusion, and reparation against using the items within this room which are not your own."

"Indeed," the brunet remarked, gracefully raising an eyebrow. His smile quirked up a bit at the corner of his mouth as if he'd gained amusement from the exchange.

"And why are you here?" L inquired, shifting his focus from his client's face to the reason for his visit.

"Aren't you going to tell _me _why I am here?"

"I could hazard a guess."

"Please do."

"But," L said, "since it is impossible for you to have known I was scheduled out of the office early this afternoon, it would be foolish to say that you were here to foil my plans. Therefore, instead of making that grave mistake, I shall listen to _your_ estimation of your intent in being here."

A deeper smile spread upon the brunet's face. Whether in response to what L said or what his potential patient was going to say next, he wasn't sure. "I'm too damn happy, doctor."

Lawliet just looked at him. "Excuse me?"

"Pardon my language," he amended graciously. "I'm too happy. And that is precisely the problem." He looked like he was thinking on some private joke. It irritated L just a bit. In this office, real people were dealing with real problems, and _this _guy-

"Why do you perceive that to be a problem, Yamaguchi-san?"

"Please, call me Light."

Did he just wink as he said that?

"Light...kun. Why is being happy a problem?"

"There is too much of it," he confessed, gracefully loosening the tie at his neck. His eyes maintained contact, and L was still uncertain as to how he might classify the color. They had something of an intriguing quality to them. "I graduated top of my class on a scholarship I had no need of as my parents are very wealthy, I'm a successful businessman, I own my own home and two disgustingly expensive vehicles, both paid for, I exercise for something to do, not because I need to, I have excellent taste in clothing, women, and wine, and the future could not be brighter. I simply don't know what to do." He almost sounded smug in that proclamation.

Lawliet sat back in his chair, feeling like a slowly deflating balloon. What a curve ball. He had no earthly idea on how to go about handling this one.

"Well, Doctor? What say you?"

"You appear to be quite the enviable man. What would you like me to say?" L returned. It seemed to him that the brunet might be looking for a specific sort of response.

The tie loosened further under the pressure of one slender finger hooked upon it. "Aren't you going to evaluate me? Perhaps I'm delusional and everything I've told you is but whim and fancy."

"No," Lawliet contradicted amicably. "I do not think so."

He received his first frown. "No?"

"No."

"That is all you have to say to me? After I've bared my soul to you?"

"And when did you do that, Yamaguchi-san?"

A deeper frown met his response. "It's Light, Doctor."

"Right. Forgive me."

They looked at each other from across the desk, neither breaking expression. Eventually, however, a secretive smile moved upon the brunet's well-shaped lips. "Have you ever overdosed on happiness, Doctor?"

"That is such a rare condition, I can't say that I have."

"Would you like to know the result?"

"If you would wish to share it with me."

"Boredom," the brunet intoned. "Sameness. Anesthetization. Madness."

"Interesting," Lawliet said, scribbling a doodle onto the edge of the paper. Later he might make actual notes, but for now he did not wish to waste his concentration. There was something oddly right about what the young man was saying. It _could _make sense. What would a life be like in which you never had to strive or struggle for anything? Would it not feel empty and meaningless? Still, this new patient of his had a way of getting under his skin with his talk of happiness. It was like a tiny splinter - not large enough to extract and too small to really hurt that much anyway. Just bothersome. There was also the impression that he was privy just now to a grand performance. The brunet was a consummate actor. Flawless in nearly every way.

Yamaguchi Light stood then and, walking up to L's desk, braced his hands flat upon it, leaning forward with a disapproving look on his face. L distractedly noted the smooth skin of his throat and the edges of his collar bones, where the button-down shirt gaped, before managing to look up again at the face that hovered in front of his. "I don't believe you are really trying to help me, Doctor," he accused.

This close, it was really hard not to acknowledge that he was quite beautiful. "What makes you say that?" L asked, finding himself in something of a staring contest for several moments before his eyes were drawn to that mouth turning down in a refined, stoic version of a pout. It should have looked ridiculous, but it didn't. It was actually rather intriguing. Long lashes swept down to hood warm, intense eyes. "Why, Doctor," the brunet said in a hushed, coiling voice that thrummed in his ears, "it's because you haven't written down a _single _thing I've said."

"I fail to see the point if you are choosing not to be forthcoming."

"So stoic, Doctor," Light commented as he pulled back, taking with him whatever aura it was about him which stole the oxygen out of the air. "Are you calmly implying that I am a liar? It wouldn't do to slander your patients."

"Yama-"

"Light."

"Light-kun," L amended.

"Just 'Light' if you please. Don't tire me by making me endlessly repeat myself."

Oh yes, this attitude was exactly the sort of thing that brought splinters to mind - this entitled, royal air. That and the sly, sensual looks that flitted over the brunet's face, looking for a foothold in whomever might be before him. "Excuse me for that, Light, I misspoke."

Lawliet caught himself thinking he might justifiably need a shrink of his own after dealing with this young man. "Might I make a request of you?" he asked the princely brunet.

"You may."

"Could you resume your seat? I'm not accustomed to making such dual use of my work desk." Indeed, the brunet looked quite at home lounging upon his desk like it was a sofa.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

Lawliet debated which answer would get him what he wanted. "A little."

"Then, if I refuse your request, you might know something of my suffering and be more obliged to end it," the brunet concluded airily.

"That could be true," Lawliet ceded. "However, it is also possible that I will choose to ignore your previous request on how I should address you, Yamaguchi-san."

Light frowned at him speculatively. "You are set on keeping quite the distance between us, aren't you?"

"It is my professional duty," he replied.

"Is it?" Light queried thoughtfully, still seated upon the desk. "I'd imagine your duty would lie with helping those in _need_." He stressed the word 'need' as if he were speaking of a different need altogether, one of a more physical nature. He swept luminous eyes over L's face. "Can you not see that _**I **_am in need?" As much as this flirtatious nature baffled L, it wasn't something he hadn't seen before. However, it might have been the first time he'd found himself actually affected by it in any way.

"I am here to assist you as soon as you decide to be forthright with me."

"All right," Light said simply.

Lawliet indicated the chair. "From over there-"

Soft lips were brushing over his suddenly, the brunet slipping in too fast for him to even register. The electric shock that snaked through him at their caress, all the way to his toes, rendered him temporarily incapable of rational thought. The tip of a tongue flicked delicately at the seam of his lips and he couldn't help reflexively letting him in.

Light's fingers graced his cheek, tracing the lines of his face before sinking into the unruly spikes of his dark hair. More than that, L was aware of the sensuous joining of their mouths and the all-consuming passion with which he was being kissed.

Something was niggling at the back of his mind, though. Quiet, but insistent. Something like horror at what he was allowing to transpire with a _patient _at this very moment. Or perhaps the true horror was for the inconceivable notion that he was too affected to pay it much mind.

A hand trailed down the side of his neck, lingering upon the hollow of his throat, which was somehow laid bare. When had his shirt become unbuttoned or his tie loosened? He had no memory, but all he could think of was letting that hand continue its meandering path down the front of his chest.

The kiss broke gently. "You're even more passionate than I thought," Light murmured against his lips. He sounded like the cat who'd stolen the cream.

_What am I doing?_

Sense started to trickle in, then a thread of panic.

_My __**god! **__What am I doing?! _This could be a lawsuit, entrapment or no. Patient-doctor relations were strictly forbidden and with good reason. He had to get his wits about him!

"Yamaguchi-san, if you do not sit in your chair as I've requested, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"After what we just shared?" Light's tone was sensual and softly mocking. His eyes were mysterious and cat-like.

"What we shared? What I witnessed was a spoiled child in adult form, acting out. Is your life so perfect that you have to fabricate turbulence?" People who decided to act like they were gay in order to be rebellious, or become fashionably outcast, irritated him. And for it to be done by a rich boy like him was unforgivably cliché.

Light stood gracefully, as if he might have been a dancer, and glided back to his seat, sitting upon it like a marionette with cut strings. His head lolled back just the tiniest bit, showing irreverence as he gazed back at L. "Happy?" he queried sardonically.

"No," L said as he stood abruptly, frowning down at him. "I will not be a method for your destructive impulses. Furthermore, I do not take kindly to being kissed by a man, let alone my own patient. My preferences lie elsewhere."

"Do they now?" Light said innocently, eyeing him. "That isn't the impression I got."

Lawliet was starting to get angry. It was unprofessional of him. About as unprofessional as allowing this man to stick his tongue down his throat, no matter how amazing it may have felt. "Then update yourself," he snapped.

"Temper, temper," Light soothed, eyes panning down his body like they were undressing him.

Something about this young man undermined him at nearly every level. It was grating. "Yamaguchi-san, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"So soon?" Again, that taunting, teasing tone lurking behind the act. He was being laughed at. All he would have to add is the batting of eyelashes and L would likely try to punch him. "Are you saying you can't help me?"

_You are beyond help._

He wanted to say it, he did. But he couldn't allow himself to say those words to another human being, no matter how obnoxious they might be. His personal code was 'No one is beyond help'. If he ever let himself believe otherwise, he'd be a failure of a psychiatrist.

"Light-kun," he said frankly, coming around to sit against the edge of his desk, facing his troublesome, incredibly sexy patient whom he had no plans of getting to know any further. "Let me level with you. Perfection such as you describe does not exist. It would be a product of either delusion or the claims of a braggart. If you are unhappy with your life, such as it is-" the brunet opened his mouth to interrupt, but L waved him off "-as your presence in my office suggests, then might I recommend that you find a new focus, a new purpose for yourself. Or perhaps obtain a pet? Some people have found an animal's presence to be quite cathartic. Otherwise, find someone suitable to date."

His heart skipped in his chest as Light's look grew broody and accusatory for a moment at that, seeming to say, _'What if I already found someone I would like to date? Only, after he was kissing me like he hadn't been laid in years, he's refusing me.' _

"Like one of those women you mentioned having an eye on," Lawliet added determinedly.

"I said I had good taste, I never said I wanted to fuck them."

Such a statement was so unexpected, and so blandly stated, that L couldn't help the surprise that slipped through his professional mask.

"Got you," Light said. He seemed quietly pleased with himself.

_Dammit._"Yes, I suppose you did." He made a display of looking at his watch. "Our time is at an end, Yamaguchi-san. I must lock up for the evening."

"Care for a drink?" the brunet asked, as if he were nothing more than an old friend.

"No."

"That was rather impolite of you, Lawliet."

"I apologize. I felt a firmer form of declining would be prudent."

"Not prudent. Rude."

"I would apologize further, but I admit it would seem a touch unfair given your lack of apology over your advances on me."

"Very well, I apologize," Light said, not sounding sorry in the least, "but that doesn't remove the fact that you liked it."

"Once you leave this office, the exit is the door on the left. I hope you have a pleasant evening."

Light was not to be dissuaded. "I'm sure you could do more than just _hope_, Doctor. Have a drink with me."

L was just as stubborn. "I applaud your intelligence and your gifts of persuasion. You make for a very interesting person, Light-kun. However, you are not in need of psychiatric care nor do you require further association with me. Look into getting a pet and I'm sure that the rest will just fall into place."

"Are you breaking up with me?" Light asked blandly. One of his graceful brows was beginning to arch.

"We aren't dating."

"Of course not," he said flatly. "As my doctor, I meant._" Obviously._

L felt his face redden just the tiniest bit. He hoped it went unnoticed, but he wasn't holding his breath. "If that is how you choose to see it."

"Hm." Light's face adopted a bored expression as he let himself out. He called out over his shoulder with a tone of arrogance and slight disappointment, "Guess you weren't as good as they say after all."

* * *

TBC


	3. Light

**Psych**  
Death Note AU  
(L/Light or Light/L)

**Summary:**Sometimes the strangest of happenings, by that merit alone, are the most memorable. Lawliet, a professional who makes his living by understanding the workings of the human mind, finds that a chance meeting throws him a real curve. Yaoi. (As always, it will be of the L and Light variety)

**Disclaimer:**Please see Chapter 1 for full disclaimer.

* * *

**A/N:** I want to send a big thank you (!) out to all the reviewers. Old and new. :))) Some of you have mentioned following _Pitch_ and _A Balm for Social Failure_and I just get such a kick out of that. You have no idea. I love hearing from you guys, seriously. Keep it coming, you are an inspiration!

I was trying to avoid Author's Note clutter, but I just wanted to say one other thing.

_**Announcement**_: I've heard some things about this site (FFdotNet) gearing up to aggressively enforce the rating system. Meaning, all stories with a mature rating, any descriptions of characters in a physical situation - this includes sex or violence - will be taken down, removed, and I think the authors will also be banned.I'm not sure when this will go down but I find it very disheartening. I used to love adultFFdotNet which allows for mature rated works, but I stopped using it when it became glitchy and ate all my stuff.

!So, I just wanted to say, that if this happens to me, you can find EVERYTHING I've written on **MediaMiner**.! It's a fantastic little site and the first one I ever started on. Very easy to manage stories there, also.

* * *

Chapter 3: Light

It took L a solid two weeks to get his head on straight after meeting Yamaguchi Light. During this time, he did not get a cat. He spent every night at the bar, revisiting the whole encounter and feeling like a complete failure at his job.

Not to mention the burning... shame? he felt every time the part with the kiss came up. What had he been thinking? No wait, he knew the answer to that. The sad thing was that he _hadn't _been thinking.

He was feeling ornery, so he blamed his disgraceful behavior upon the fact that he actually hadn't been with anyone intimately for quite a while now. It wasn't a complete lack of interest on his part or others, but no one had seemed... interesting enough. He needed some sort of affinity with them in order to not have it go completely south afterwards. Not to mention, liking them enough that being physical seemed like a fun thing to do, not a chore.

_(So you have an affinity for an egotistical headcase? Is that what you're saying?)_

Oh yes, that sounded like a great place to be. Just add that to his epic quest to find more meaning in life and he was doing just peachy.

_Affinity? _he scoffed. _Maybe Light is just obnoxiously, inhumanly attractive, _he defended. _Ever think of that? Maybe I had no chance, no choice in the matter in the first place._

_(Ha. Likely story.)_

_Shut up._

_(Make me.)_

_Oh, now that's mature. I'm having a juvenile argument with _myself_. Could this night get __**any**__ better?_

"Closing time, son," the bartender said. "Last call."

"Give me a double of Patrón," he said on a whim.

"That's a nice tequila," the bartender said, making conversation. L wouldn't know. He'd never had any before. "Special occasion?"

He smiled faintly. "You could say that." _**Yes, a celebration of sinking to new lows! **_Everybody, raise your glass!

* * *

Tequila didn't sit right with him. He should have guessed it. Unfortunately for him, he _didn't_ and he'd spent the night feeling all kinds of special, camped out on the cold floor of his spacious bathroom.

Given those circumstances, and the fact that he hadn't had the presence of mind to change his clothes a mere few hours later, he supposed he wasn't overly surprised when he stumbled in to work only to meet Sophie's rendition of Medusa's deadly stare.

"What?" he said petulantly, knowing already that he was in the wrong, though that knowledge only served to irritate him.

"You're late."

Huh. Of all the things she could have chosen to take issue with, that one wasn't so bad-

"By nearly two hours, L," she continued, voice rising with distress. "I've had to cancel several of your appointments, cover for your absence, and my god, are those wrinkled clothes the same ones you were wearing yesterday?"

"Um..."

"No, don't answer that. If you do I simply won't be able to keep from slapping sense into you." Her pretty, elfin face was deadly serious.

"But I'm your boss."

"You do not in any way resemble my employer at the present time, Lawliet, and if I didn't know better-" She paused to renew the Medusa look. "-I would say that you reeked of alcohol!" she completed in a stage whisper.

"Can that look of yours turn children and small animals to stone? If so, we might be in the wrong business."

"I'll turn your ass into stone alright," she threatened. "You are in no shape to conduct business of any kind and you should feel just awful coming to work like this."

"Actually, I do feel pretty horrible..."

"Then go _home_. You are no use to me like...like... _this_." She threw up her hands.

L frowned. "Would it kill you to be just a touch sympathetic, Sophie?"

"Absolutely," she said firmly. "Now be gone from my sight."

"So I suppose I'm working from home today?"

"Go now, before I write you up."

"You can't," he reminded her. "I'm your boss."

"Well whose cockamayme idea was that? It'd be obvious to anyone with eyes that you're the one who needs supervision, boy."

"And you are younger than me," he pointed out.

"Shush shush shush," she replied with a wave of her hand. "Begone. Before anyone _sees _you, for cripes sakes."

"Uh, yes ma'am."

* * *

L went home, took a shower, and pretended to sleep for the next few hours. Sweet oblivion was a noble aspiration yet a fruitless one. He couldn't help but keep thinking that since he was already off of work, that he wouldn't have any worries about leaving the office early to make his weekly appointment. The only thing was, he'd sort of lost his taste for it.

No, that wasn't entirely right either. Maybe what he'd lost was his nerve.

He rolled over onto his back, arm flopping out beside him and stared at the ceiling. Fall off the horse, and you just have to get right back on again. Right?

Stupid Yamaguchi. It was all his fault. What a freaking monkey wrench that session had turned out to be, all because Sophie couldn't turn down that pretty face and a sexy smile. He had to remember to admonish her for that at least.

_'Guess you weren't as good as they say after all.'_

What had he meant by his last words anyway?

Had the whole thing been some kind of test? Had anything been recorded? Was his livelihood in jeopardy? Had that kiss been a strategic play to test his resolve and professionalism? Was it fake the entire time? Was Yamaguchi Light who and what he had made himself out to be? Or was he something else entirely?

He could speculate all he wanted but it was the truth he desired not educated guesses.

All in all, he couldn't help feeling like he'd failed some kind of skills evaluation. And frankly, the thought depressed him.

_You know what? Fuck it. I'll go see some random bastard with a couple of degrees plastered on his wall. If they suck - I'll feel better about the quality of my work. If they're good - they can make me feel better about the quality of my work. Win/win. (And hey, maybe I'll even vent a little, in a roundabout, anonymous fashion)._

He pulled out the large paper phone book from under his bed and flipped open to the mental health services pages. He liked doing this old school. The page was littered with little X's and O's which indicated not only who he'd gone to see before but whether they were bad (X) or good (O). He ran his finger down the pages of listings until one caught his eye. Then he made plans. It was almost funny that as a new or potential patient, most offices you called would see you same day, whereas existing patients had to wait. He supposed it was with the idea of generating new business, but there was still a taint of unfairness about it. He shrugged. _Oh well, not my problem._

He got to the chosen office on time, if a little early, and set about the tedium of new patient paperwork. He had his false identity all memorized and easily accessible. It wouldn't have been prudent to use his real name in forays such as this. It could potentially affect his career. It was the same with his appearance. He took pains to look like he wasn't himself, just to minimize the chance of someone recognizing him, botching the whole thing.

Again, he wore sloppy, baggy jeans and an over-sized sweater, but this time his top was black. Shoes were a must. He didn't have the heart to enjoy throwing anyone outside of their comfort zone today. He also made sure not to brush his hair, after showering and rolling around the bed on it. It was just this side of frightful, sticking up at all angles. He decided to leave his sunglasses on to hide the dark circles under his eyes, knowing the doctor would request him to take them off. But that was minutes from now and he was currently in a waiting room full of people. Indoors be damned, the shades were staying on.

"Mr. Lawrence?" the receptionist called. "The doctor will see you now."

He got to his feet and slouched towards the door she was holding open which led to the inner office.

"You might want to remove your sunglasses, sir," she suggested.

"Thank you for your concern," he replied, making no move to do so.

She let out a small huff of irritation and led him down the hall. "Through there," she said. "First door on the right."

"Uh-huh."

She left him, shaking her head, and he ventured off to the office she'd indicated. The place was kind of fancy schmancy, indicating high overhead, higher patient fees, and possibly doctors that were used to indulgence. Real cherry wood paneling lined the wall the office doors were on, and what looked to be real gold plating shone upon the single numeral upon the door. This one was a 6.

He opened the door and stepped inside. "Hello?" he called. The place seemed empty. Was that a _fireplace_ he saw in the corner? _Are you kidding me? _The light was kind of dim so he found himself reaching up to remove his shades just as the large-backed leather chair began to turn towards him. Ah, so there was someone here after all.

"Welcome," a pleasant male voice said. The tone sounded almost solicitous and bordered on familiar. "Please, have a seat."

L did as he was bid, his expression turning to disbelief. As he lowered his shades in near slow-motion, mind working at what his eyes were relaying to him, the doctor's expression began to mirror his own before morphing into a stately smile.

"You..." L was still hung up on the fact that he must be hallucinating.

"Good evening, 'Lawrence'," Light greeted. "Or should I just skip the persona and call you by your real name?"

"What are you doing in that chair?"

"Hmn, what indeed. And how should you like me to answer? I am the product of the near accidental miracle of life which was bestowed upon my parents... I am the one whose name is on those lovely little degrees framed upon my wall, meaning I am _amply _qualified to be sitting behind this desk... did you want more? Or was your question more an utterance of surprise?"

"Yes, that," L said distractedly, standing up immediately and stalking over to the Wall of Awesome (which was practically how the wall of diplomas had been presented). _Yagami _was the surname upon all of them. Not Yamaguchi. The given name, 'Light' was the same. "Explain yourself," he demanded.

Light looked back at him with a pleasant yet unimpressed look upon his face. "But we aren't here to talk about me, we're here to talk about _you_."

L bit back his first instinctual response. "All right," he said instead. "Let's talk about something that's bothering me." He took his seat once more and made himself look agreeable.

"Of course," Light returned smoothly, looking even more appealing than before with the weird sort of dim lighting in the room. Was that intentional? "And what might that be?"

"YOU."

"Now, now, Lawliet, I told you that we are not here to discuss me." His smile was sly and almost flirtatious, his tone encouraging.

"Oh no, that would be _Mr. Lawrence _to you, sir. Whatever your name is."

A flicker of distaste crossed Light's fine features. "Must we stoop to that level, Lawliet?"

L set his jaw and would not be moved.

Amusement slid into Light's eyes and he chuckled. He stood and started a slow pace of the room, hands clasped behind his back. L's eyes followed his movements. He looked much the same as he had in L's own office. "Yagami is my true name. Yamaguchi was an alias just as Lawrence was yours."

"To what end?"

"I'm not sure I wish to divulge that at this time, my dear _Lawrence_," he responded with a slight sting of sarcasm. "And, to be fair, you had an entire session to take a crack at me and figure me out. I was at more of a disadvantage there than you are at this time. Might we not be civilized about this?"

"Funny, you strike me as being distinctly un-civilized," L groused.

This earned him one of those amused almost-smirks that held his eye a little overlong. "Thank you for indulging me," Light said silkily as their gazes met, making his stomach flutter. The brunet's eyes were like weapons of debauchery. He had to remember not to look into them.

"So," Light said, sitting down next to him on the chaise lounge and crossing one long leg over the other. From the way the fabric of his pants conformed to them, L would say that they were shapely as well. "Why don't you tell me about yourself?" Light was resting his chin on his hand, his elbow on the back of the small sofa, staring at him with enigmatic eyes. Those soft, full lips turned up in an anticipatory smile.

This felt nothing like a psychiatry session. Not at all. L was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. It seemed to be par for the course when dealing with the person in front of him. "Do you try and talk up all of your clients like this?" he tossed out.

"Only the interesting ones," was the candid reply.

Part of L was relieved, part of him was annoyed that Light would find it acceptable to harass multiple people in this manner. "It isn't very professional of you."

"_Au contraire_." Light brushed his thumb slowly across his lower lip as if in contemplation, eyes departing from L's momentarily. "You might be amazed at how a little mood would go a long way in improving someone's day."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Imagine, Lawliet, that you were a lonely woman who needed someone's ear to bend. Certainly, you might go to any office in the city to obtain the peace of mind that would afford you." He paused as L nodded. "Now imagine, that at one particular office, you had an especially attentive young doctor to tend to you. One that made you feel..." He leaned closer, catching dark eyes with his and sliding a languid hand up L's thigh. "...more alive."

L tried to pretend his heart was not hammering in his throat.

"Wouldn't that be worth the price of admission?"

Light's hand had not strayed from its resting place upon his leg. It was worse than a distraction. "What about the risk of a lawsuit?" he said hoarsely, forcing himself to speak.

"Would _you _report something like that?" Light murmured, leaning close to his mouth and massaging the flesh of his leg. "Did you report me before?"

"N-No, I thought you were a patient. That would have only landed _me _in trouble."

"And at this very moment, you are my patient." His voice was sinuous. "And you have a very important choice to make."

"Wh-What's that?" L managed to get out as the brunet's hand slid higher, amplifying the tight ache in his belly.

"Just how much you are willing to let me get away with," Light said against his lips.

L made some small noise in the back of his throat as warm, sensual lips covered his and he relived the sensations of that first kiss all over again. Only this time, the hand on his upper thigh was undoing him even faster. He tried once, in vain, to pull away but Light's other arm circled around his back, holding him firmly in place. Their mouths melded together like a matched set, and he was helpless against the desire that flared in him.

This whole situation was seriously fucked up and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. There was not one fiber of his being with the strength to pry him loose from this heated embrace. Especially not when Light was leaning him back upon the arm of the couch, now kissing his throat and palming him through the front of his jeans. His head tilted back and he gasped, unable to help himself.

"There, that's what I like to hear," Light whispered in his ear with a roughened voice, squeezing him harder and making him bite his lip as a moan tried to slip out. "You know why?" the brunet continued, his voice becoming more husky and even sexier than before as L came undone in his hands. "That, my dear, is the sound of total surrender."

* * *

L left the psychiatrist's office in a complete daze. He was amazed that his legs even had enough strength to accomplish it, as they'd been like complete rubber before.

His mind felt totally blown and he didn't trust himself to drive, so he got into his car and just sat a while.

_What in the hell did I just do?_

It was only much later that he realized his phone was missing.

* * *

"Good morning, sir, did you enjoy your unplanned PTO?" L's fair-haired assistant greeted him brightly as he walked in to the office the next day.

"I uh..." way too many things whipped through his mind, _none _of which he was voicing aloud. "Yeah, Sophie, it was fine."

"Just 'fine'? You didn't end up working, did you?" She gave him a sympathetic look, just the sort of one he'd been waiting for yesterday when he'd mentioned not feeling well. Bollocks. "You shouldn't work on your time off. You rarely ever take any time, so you should try to enjoy it."

_Oh, I enjoyed it alright. So much so that I lost my damn cell phone and the office had closed by the time I had the presence of mind to think of retracing my steps. I'm remarkably intelligent and yet still I'm capable of being a complete __**idiot**__._

"Oh, by the way," Sophie added, her chin-length banana curls bobbing as she shuffled through some paperwork, eyes skimming the pages. "My sister is taking me to lunch today so I'll be gone a little longer than usual. I'm just reminding you but it is also on the calendar. You'll be okay holding down the fort, yes?"

"Sure. Thanks."

L grabbed a cup of coffee before his bad day got any worse and blindsided him before he could be properly caffeinated, then trudged into his office. The aforementioned calendar would have been happily notifying him of this had he not lost his fucking cell phone. As it was, he was lucky Sophie thought he was forgetful of such things or that would have been an unwelcome surprise. Since he usually grabbed food out, that meant he would not be eating this afternoon. He hoped the extra sugar he'd be putting in his coffee would suffice.

The day moved along at a steady pace, the office working like a revolving door, one short appointment after another. The clock steadily clicked out the beat to which he must march and singular thoughts such as _Idiot! _and _What were you thinking?! _punctuated the minutes.

He still couldn't believe he'd let what happened in the other psychiatrist's office, well, _happen_. Not only had he never entertained the thought of embarking upon any sort of sexual foray upon just meeting someone, but he certainly had never thought it would be with someone of the same gender. Not that that mattered to the Nth degree, but it had been a bit of a shock. That was not what he was beating himself up over, however. It was more the _who_ and the _where_ as opposed to the _what_. The_ what_ was embarrassing, to say the least. The _where_ was mortifying, and the _who_... he wasn't sure how he felt about that exactly, other than the fact that it was upsetting to think upon.

_I bet he's done that with all his clients, the gorgeous bastard._

_Did I just say gorgeous? Damnit, I meant 'peaky'! Damn that peaky bastard. Damn him and his sexy voice, and his eyes... and why in the hell is he such a fantastic kisser? That pisses me off!_

_I bet he charges them extra for that._

L paused his mini rant as a thought occurred. He'd paid for his co-pay before entering Light's office. No one had asked him for more on the way out. Not that he was overly aware of much at that point. He saw, he came, he was conquered. If Light was charging extra for such services, it certainly hadn't been requested of him by the office staff.

The brunet's image, the last he'd seen of him, popped into his head. Smoky eyes and a heated gaze, the worshipful caress of lips on his neck as Light brought him to shuddering climax. Past that, it was a blur. Though he did sort of recall a glimpse of feverish eyes and a bitten lip in the dimness of the room just before being promptly ushered out, the door clicking shut decisively behind him.

_Ah, they'll probably just bill me at home, _he thought dismissively, dispelling the whole affair.

Damnit, even just thinking about the other psychiatrist, if that's what he really was, had made him hot and bothered. How was he supposed to work like this? He refrained from cursing the brunet this time, as it had proved a less than fruitful exercise, but the desire to do so was still strong.

His last appointment before lunch, Mr. Donner was taken care of. Now he could backfill some of his notes and other things he hadn't had time for what with the back-to-back appointments. He'd just sunk a good 30 minutes of work in when some infernal being decided to start knocking at the door. Good lord, the last thing he needed was a walk-in. Next thing he knew, the phone would probably start ringing.

He stood, straightening his suit with agitated jerks of his hands. Muttering under his breath, he went to the door, slapping a professional look onto his face and making a point to sound like he wasn't pissed off.

"You forgot your phone at my place," the not-stranger said in his cultured voice.

L was so surprised to see Light standing on the stoop that he promptly shut the door in his face and locked it, leaning against it as his mind tried to catch up. _'My place?'_ _He makes it sound like we... like we had some sort of full indiscretion at his house. _His face flushed at the image of what _**that **_might be like and he knew he could not open the door.

"Lawliet," the brunet called through the slab of wood that separated them. "You aren't exactly rewarding me for the time I took out of my day to bring this here."

The office phone began to ring, as expected, and L felt torn. Only for a moment, though. Work was preferable to outright humiliation any day. "Um, sorry, I have to get the phone," he managed to get out before pushing off the door and running over to the handset. "L and Associates," he answered, a little out of breath.

"You're an idiot," the caller said. "Now open the damn door so I can give you your phone back."

"Ah..." he said uselessly. He trudged slowly back to the door with the handset against his ear even though neither of them were speaking. He unlocked the door and opened it upon quite the imperious look.

"There is something wrong with you," the brunet announced.

"There is plenty wrong with you as well," L countered, his annoyance at being called an idiot just now surfacing.

"Well, it couldn't be my technique," Light said in mock consideration, his voice loud enough to carry. "That had your eyes rolling back in your head in about as many seconds as it took for me to lay you flat on your back."

"Jeezus!" L didn't give himself the time it would have taken to smack his hand to his forehead. "Get in here," he said roughly, pulling Light across the threshold by his arm. It was a very nicely muscled arm. "For godsakes, what are you doing saying shit like that outside my workplace?" Now safely behind closed doors, L smacked his hand to his forehead and strode down the hall, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

Light brushed imaginary lint off his impeccable attire. "You're welcome, by the way," he said as he strolled after the agitated, spiky-haired psychiatrist.

L turned on his heel. "For what, exactly?" He gave Light the evil eye and tried to ignore how just the sight of him was making his blood rush faster through his veins.

Light offered him a casual smile. "For your phone."

"Oh," L responded, somewhat deflated. He'd been so ready for a battle of wills that he wasn't sure what to do when the other man was being reasonable. "Yes, thank you for that," he amended awkwardly.

"And for everything else," Light added with a smirk tilting his lips.

_Fuck. _L could feel his entire body flush at that. "Go home," he said brusquely, turning away. "Or go back to work, I have things to do." He shuffled some papers around and made himself look busy. Not that he wasn't busy, but he'd be damned if he could concentrate with Light anywhere in the vicinity. He glanced over his shoulder after a few minutes to find Light hadn't vacated at all in the silence, but was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"You know, Lawliet, you're being rather cold to someone you let service you."

"S-service me?" L spluttered indignantly. God, his face felt like it was on fire.

Light pushed off of the wall and stalked around him in a circle, his eyes narrowed and cat-like. "Isn't that what happened?"

"I don't know what happened," L said, putting a table between them.

"Come now, playing innocent won't do you any good." Light rounded the table. "I saw you with your pants down, literally and figuratively."

"What do you want from me?" L circled around the same way, keeping his distance.

"I _want _to fuck your brains out, but I was willing to settle for a drink."

Surprise and confusion stilled L's flight. "Wait, you mean, you were actually asking me out before?" L was now finding himself ruffled in an entirely different way now. So the first time Light had come here... "Really?"

"Yes," Light said with unveiled exasperation. "How are you so unversed in such things when you work with people all day?"

"Well, why did you come in here like you were a patient?" He could hardly be faulted for not taking advances seriously in that scenario. It was a huge professional liability. Besides, he actually was really curious to know the answer.

"The same reason you do it, I suppose. Only you were much more fun to get a rise out of. I couldn't help myself."

"So you often torture mental health staff with complaints of being 'too happy'?" How appalling.

Light grinned. "It's a good one, though, isn't it? Made you think."

It was, he'd admit. And it would give a good accounting of the doctor's skills as they were made to think outside the box. No need to feed the golden boy's ego, however. Besides, he was still upset over the whole thing. "_Yes_, and then you busted a move on me and I didn't know how to take that," L complained. "You realize the trouble that can come out of something like that? You had me freaking out about facing a lawsuit."

"Of course I realize. As I said, I couldn't help myself. And you could have made things a lot easier by just going out for that drink with me."

"Yeah, right, so if someone _was _trying to set me up, I would have walked right into it. No thanks."

"You're paranoid, aren't you?" Light said thoughtfully.

"...No."

"Liar. It's plain as day."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I wanted to see how you would answer. Why waste a chance to profile you?"

"...I have work to do," L said, encouraging him to leave.

"Go right ahead. But I'm sure you won't be very productive what with the way you can't take your eyes off of me."

"I'm not staring at you because I want to," he protested, the denial thick as tar, even to his own ears. "I just don't know what you're going to do next!" Light would see through him in a heartbeat. His expression a moment later just confirmed it.

"I can tell you what I'm going to do next, if you're so concerned about it," Light said pleasantly.

L was wary. "...and what might that be?"

"Well, first I am going to knock over this table, scattering your paperwork everywhere since it seems you are insistent about keeping it in the way. Secondly, I am going to pin you against that wall, right over there," he said, pointing to the wall behind L.

L turned to look, just a reflexive reaction to someone pointing, and turned back to find that Light had quite nimbly made it around the table. In half a second more, he found himself pressed full body against the wall, arms pinned above his head. "Third," Light said enigmatically. Once more, L's heart was hammering in his chest and he felt drunk with the brunet's proximity. "Third?"

"Third," Light repeated, trailing lips over his cheek and speaking softly in his ear. "I'm going to make you so hard for me that you'll be begging me to so much as touch you."

"Hardly seems much of a contest-" L said under his breath. Talking helped him keep his wits about him.

"Four," Light continued huskily, playing at his ear with tiny nips of his teeth which were entirely too compelling an argument already, "I'll have you stretched out naked upon my bed, _aching_ and _pleading _for me to come inside of you."

"Aren't you getting a bit ahead of yourself?" L said faintly as the blood in his body pooling in his lower extremities made him light-headed. God, this man's voice was like an aphrodisiac.

"Hmm," the brunet hummed deep in his throat. "You think so?"

"I'm paranoid, remember?" L said, slightly out of breath. God damnit he was so turned on right now, he could hardly see straight. "How are you supposed to lure me into your stronghold?"

Light pulled back and smiled lazily, making L's stomach flip-flop, before leaning in for a slow, tantalizing kiss. "I happen to know that extreme sexual desire can override a lot of things," he said, flicking the tip of his tongue against L's sensitive lips teasingly then drawing the lower one into his mouth to suck on like a ripe cherry. L found that his shaking legs were not doing as good a job keeping him upright as they ought to. Bad legs, bad.

_I wonder if he can tie cherry stems into knots with his tongue? _L wondered hazily.

"You're the boss at this office, aren't you?" the brunet whispered heatedly against his mouth.

"Yeesss," L said, the word coming out in a groan as Light took that moment to grind their hips together. His arms were released from above his head and he draped them around the brunet's neck as he did it again, rolling them in a way that was just... just...

"Cancel the rest of your day," Light murmured. "Let Sophie handle everything."

"How do you know her name?" he asked automatically, without really caring much about the answer. His hands drifted down Light's body, curious and eager to touch.

"Calendar," Light moaned as L squeezed his backside with a roaming hand, which also rocked their hips tightly against one another's. "On your phone," he elaborated with panted breaths. "Which is why I know she's coming back too soon for us to finish this here. Please, for the love of god, come home with me."

"I don't know." L was really torn. All his instincts said to go, make haste, except for the one that reminded him that skipping out on work made it harder to pay the bills. _Go or stay, go or stay? Stay or go get lai-_

"If we leave now, she won't see you like this," Light offered temptingly. "And if we don't leave now, she's going to think you're fucking a patient. Not to mention, she had her eyes on me and she's already picking out curtains. Do you want her to hate you?"

"She's not gonna hate me," L said thickly, chest rising and falling too fast with his hastened breaths. He was fairly sure; though that certainty was dropping steadily under the weight of Light's counter-argument.

Light pinned him with bedroom eyes, his perfect hair lying tousled across his lightly flushed face in a way that was beyond appealing. "She might when she sees this," he said with a wink.

"Wait, what are you-?"

Light surged forward, locking his lips to L's throat, picking a spot that was entirely too susceptible to the rolling, sucking pressure of that pretty mouth. "No," he said faintly, pushing against the brunet's shoulders, too weak to pleasure to properly protest the large hickey that was likely forming under Light's ministrations. The gentle nicking of teeth was driving him crazy.

"Say yes," Light implored him once more, lips hot against his skin, "or I'm going to give you the worst case of blue balls you'll ever see in this lifetime."

"I shouldn't," L moaned, lamenting the decision entirely.

"But you will," Light prompted.

"But I will," he repeated. Somehow just repeating someone else's words seemed less like making a whole big decision on one's own.

"Good," Light praised him, pressing a kiss upon his mouth. "Because you look like you've had your throat ripped out, your skin is so pale."

"Oh geez, is it that bad?" L brought his hand up to his throat and winced as he touched the abused skin.

"It's beautiful," the brunet assured him admiringly. "I'll give you a matching one on your hip later."

* * *

L scribbled Sophie a note, guilt riding him so hard he could nearly convince himself that he shouldn't be leaving. Nearly. Right now he was too out of his mind with desire to be able to properly appreciate consequences.

Once in the parking lot, there was another snag.

"I should take my car," L said, though it was currently taking a phenomenal amount of concentration just putting one foot in front of the other. Leaving it in the parking lot would certainly raise questions...

"What's with all of these 'should's?" Light said with exasperation, hooking an arm through his and hauling him away from the direction of his car.

"But I-"

"You're in no shape to drive, you'll get yourself in an accident. We'll take my car."

"What about you?" L accused. From what he'd seen, the brunet was almost as desperate as he was.

"I'm not the one having trouble walking."

"Fuck you," he grumbled.

Light just smiled infuriatingly and didn't bother voicing the obvious statement that they would shortly be doing just that. Though he might as well have, with how _very _obvious it was.

Light's car was a jet black Audi, one of the really expensive sport models, with rims and do-dads that looked custom. It screamed 'obnoxious overabundance of money.' "I'm gonna be sick," L announced as he slid into the soft, buff-colored leather seats.

"Why? Don't you like the feel of money?"

"You weren't making it up about your parents being loaded or the scholarship or any of the other stuff, were you?"

"No," Light said agreeably. "About the only thing I made up was the being too happy part."

"You're not normal."

"No, I'm not," Light agreed again, shooting him a sly smile. His eyes held secrets and a dare. "Wanna see how far the rabbit hole goes?"

* * *

TBC


	4. The Wrath of Sophie

**Psych**  
Death Note AU  
(L/Light or Light/L)

* * *

**Summary:**Sometimes the strangest of happenings, by that merit alone, are the most memorable. Lawliet, a professional who makes his living by understanding the workings of the human mind, finds that a chance meeting throws him a real curve. Yaoi. (As always, it will be of the L and Light variety)

**Disclaimer:**Please see Chapter 1 for full disclaimer.

* * *

Chapter 4: The Wrath of Sophie

"Shit," L said some time later, a thought occurring to him as they drove. "I forgot my phone on the desk at work."

"We aren't going back for it."

"Obviously."

Light slanted him a look. "We've been in the car less than fifteen minutes and already you're getting cold feet."

"It's easier to think without you going all Sex God on my ass."

"You feel very comfortable with me," Light mused. "You aren't afraid to say exactly what's on your mind." He returned his eyes to the road. "How do you know I won't take advantage of that?"

"I don't. But please don't mistake a level of comfort for blind trust."

"Never," Light swore melodramatically. "Yet, I am compelled to ask what more than blind trust would have you get into a near stranger's car in order to go to their house, at which they've vowed to violate you?"

L didn't have to look at him to know one of those eyebrows was arching at him.

"That would be lust, and the fact that you are _very _persuasive."

"Darn. I was hoping it was my effusive charm that had won you over."

"Your charm is the most frightening thing about you," L said frankly.

"Really," the brunet drawled in near disbelief. "How do you figure?"

"You should know the principle of it, having studied the same subjects as I have. Charm is a tool for taking advantage of people, nothing more. There is no warmth or honesty in it. It's dangerous."

Light chuckled, a curling smile gracing his lips. "Aptly put."

"You have such a way with inspiring confidence," L remarked blandly. The brunet could have put in at least a little effort denying the implications of what he'd said. _Or perhaps he's_ trying_ to put me on edge?_

"As for the empathetic introverts, such as yourself," Light continued blithely, "it would be like shooting fish in a barrel for someone like that."

"Someone like you," L corrected.

Again, Light laughed with genuine amusement, eyes shining with glee as he glanced at his passenger. "You never fail to entertain me." He paused a moment then said, "Are you a masochist then? Labeling me as trouble, yet willingly giving yourself up to my whims?"

"Hmn, that is a good question, isn't it?" L responded, withholding his opinion at last.

* * *

Light's house was as disgustingly opulent as his car. To L's chagrin, there was in fact another fancy sports car in the driveway, a beautiful black Porsche.

"Black again?" L commented. "Now that is redundant."

Light just smiled benevolently as he parked and said, "The interior is red leather."

"You know, there are other ways to spend money if you are looking for ideas aside from a collection of overpriced black cars."

"Such as?"

"Charities? You know, like the ones for starving children which they talk about on the television all the time?"

"Hmn."

"Hmn what?"

"You've as much as told me that I am a self-serving egotist, so tell me what use would I have in helping those less fortunate?"

"It would be a feather in your cap - you could impress people with your giving nature?" L offered. He hadn't really accused Light of being all that. The brunet was being catty, so he responded in kind. "Nice tax break?"

Light rolled his eyes, well aware of what he was doing. "Nonprofit organizations often become too bloated and greedy at the top to do any real good. Those you want to help might be better served by receiving direct handouts from those looking to perform charity."

"That's a negative way of looking at it."

"It's just my own opinion."

"So this is your reasoning for just buying up things like cars instead?"

"Yes."

L gave a whistle. "Wow."

"Don't judge me," Light said without much of an edge at all. It seemed that he, too, must be comfortable to be bickering like this and taking no true offense.

"You don't _live _with your rich parents, do you?" L asked suspiciously as the thought occurred, taking the opportunity to rib his companion.

"Oh, no," Light said, quite seriously. "They live next door."

"REALLY?"

"No," Light laughed at him and drew a playful hand across his dark hair, messing it up and making it stand on end.

The feel of his fingers running through his hair made L's eyes flutter closed briefly, reminding him of the throbbing flesh between his legs which nervousness had allowed him to ignore.

A fingertip traced the curve of his jaw and under his chin before tipping his head up to receive a gentle, leisurely kiss. Behind the restraint of softly brushing lips, he could still taste the pungent surge of desire. It worsened his control over his composure, being able to sense something like that. It stirred the quickening in his veins and made him rush the kiss, trying to make it as hard and raw as he felt.

"Don't rush it," Light said, putting two fingers to his lips and kissing his cheek instead. "I promise you it's more intense that way."

"What are you, a saint?" He was fast burning up again.

"Hardly." Light slanted amorous eyes at him, and stroked a fingertip down his chest with intent. "You have no idea of all the things I want to do to you," he said enigmatically.

"Is that my cue to run?"

"You wouldn't get far," the brunet answered serenely, pulling him by the front of the shirt into a deep, soul-stealing kiss.

* * *

L marveled at how closely Light had predicted the events between them as he lay on Light's large, round platform bed. One through three had been met, pretty much without contest. Four was fast approaching inception.

He felt lost in the sea of white silk sheets. They were almost as pale as he was and it was as if he would blend away amongst them if not for the light blue button down shirt or the plaid boxers he wore, which provided the only color. Other than, he supposed, the flash of red from the hickey on his neck which he'd not laid eyes on. Light had talked of making one on his hip... if he did, then he would know just what the other one looked like even without a mirror. Of course, he might just die of anticipation, with Light's lips anywhere near his stomach or hips. He'd probably also make doing it look sexy as hell.

Light came back into the room, dressed in dark-colored boxers and a short, black silk robe, holding two champagne glasses casually in one hand which were full to the brim.

"What's the occasion?" L asked, taking one as Light climbed onto the bed next to him, somehow not spilling a drop of the fizzing golden liquid.

"None," he replied, taking a sip. "Just felt like it."

"You aren't trying to drug me, are you?"

Light laughed easily, his eyes sparkling. "I hardly think it necessary. You seem perfectly willing to me." He leaned in and kissed L, his mouth cool and tasting of high quality champagne. "Mmm... though if you don't want it, I'd be just as happy to pour it all over your body and lick it off."

_Oh my god, I wouldn't survive that. _L was having a hard enough time keeping his body in check let alone suffering such sweet torture as that. He hastened to take a hearty swig of the alcohol before Light found an even more creative use for it.

Light brushed his glass aside before he could total it, giving him more lingering kisses that tasted of sex and the bittersweet fizz of champagne. "I want you so badly," Light said against his mouth, sucking in an audible breath as if to steady himself. He slipped a hand under the open flap of L's button-down shirt, smoothing it over pale skin. Kneading L's pectoral muscle, he rolled his nipple between his thumb and forefinger, kissing him all the while. L felt like his head was going to float right off of his shoulders.

Glimpses of Light's beautiful skin alone were enough to almost undo him. His body was fit and toned, the skin a light golden tan that begged to be explored. He wanted to touch it, to feel the quality of it beneath his fingers, but he could not. One of his hands was occupied with propping himself up and the other was holding the half empty glass of champagne that he was rapidly losing interest in. Light trailed fingers lightly down his stomach, making him follow them with razor sharp focus.

_Where was the other glass? _he wondered. From what the brunet been doing, he hadn't seemed hampered by the one he'd taken just a brief sip from before.

Light reached up, trailing caressing fingers up L's forearm and preoccupied hand. Then he was tipping the glass with one hand so that it poured a delicate, sticky stream upon his abdomen, while the other pulled the waistband of L's boxers down low.

_Oh god_, L thought as Light bent down to lick the soft skin at the curve of his hip. He lapped at the trail of liquid that beaded there, then taking a small bit of flesh in his mouth to worry at, soothe, and bruise just like he'd done to L's neck.

L closed his eyes, breathing growing heavy every time Light sucked hard upon the skin that was so close to his aching arousal, or pulled the waistband of his boxers down tantalizingly lower. He thrashed a bit, being quite overcome by the teasing nature of it.

"Please," he said, the small word slipping through his guard. His shirt now lay wide open, baring his spare frame to the open air. Clever fingers alighted upon it from time to time, stirring desire unbearably.

"Please, what?" Light said smoothly, dragging his boxers so low that he could now feel air caressing almost every bit of him.

"Please, please, please," he repeated in a small litany, still hardly aware of what he was saying. All he knew is that he needed to kill this desire before it killed him.

"You want me to put my mouth on you, don't you?" Light asked lazily, cupping his need with a soft hand and squeezing just enough to make him moan and writhe.

"Y-Yes."

"Well, I'm sorry to say that my mouth is not for that," Light said with mock regret, humiliating him slightly. "But I can show you what it _is _for." He took the champagne glass from L's limp hand, draining it easily, and passing the heady drink to L in a sealed kiss. L almost choked on it as Light's taut body covered his to do it and their hips caged both of their arousals between them. Light continued kissing him, the heat from his chest and the rest of his body driving L to madness. The gentle intermittent rocking of their hips was not enough. "Please, Light," he pleaded, "I can't take anymore."

"You're not at your limit already, are you?" Light teased him, but didn't manage to sound as unaffected as he probably would have liked.

"Yes, I am." He tried not to sound too desperate, but he was almost beyond caring anyhow. "Please, do whatever you're going to do to me."

"Why, Lawliet, it almost sounds as if you're begging and pleading for me to take you." Light's voice was rougher now, sexier and enthralled. He slid L's boxer shorts down over his hips and tossed them aside then trailed a hand up the inside of L's thigh, making him bite back a whimper.

L's head thrashed side to side as Light sank down and nuzzled the delicate skin of his inner thigh while spreading his legs wide. He almost didn't register the probing of his ass or the first finger that slid inside, covered in latex and lubricant - he was that far gone. Light was cruel then, distracting him with things like warm puffs of air upon his aching flesh, or the delicate lick of a tongue tracing up his length. To Light's credit, though, L had no recollection of the further preparations that might have been made to ensure he wasn't hurt, like making certain he could take multiple digits. Light was just that good at tormenting him.

"Sit up a little," Light breathed, kneeling before him and pulling one of L's legs up over his thigh after he'd acquiesced.

"I've never done this before," L said faintly, a little drunk on champagne and more than a little drunk on desire. "I mean, with a man-"

"I know," Light said, slipping an arm around L's back to hold him in place as he eased into his tight, fragile-looking body. The look of him was deceptive. Lawliet was resilient and wiry. He certainly wouldn't break. "Now relax," he commanded softly as L tensed against him, keeping him out. He nuzzled the side of L's slender neck urging him to relax through soothing touches. He'd chosen this position for this very reason. It was closer, more intimate, and made for an easier entry. "Did you forget how much you wanted this?" he murmured. Halfway in now, his other hand was free to stroke his partner's arousal which would soon make him forget the discomfort he may be feeling. "Just trust me," he soothed as he brought the flagging erection back to life. Strong, spidery hands dug into his shoulders as he worked and soon L was making those lovely muffled sounds of pleasure once more. As soon as the first "please" dropped from his mouth, Light eased forward again until he was deeply enmeshed and forcing a sexy groan from Lawliet's pale lips.

It was all he could do to take things this slow. He wasn't kidding when he'd said he wanted to fuck Lawliet's brains out. Perhaps it was a coarse way to say it, and his words _had _been chosen mainly for shock value, but... this man inspired a hunger in him that was more than just the physical. There was some elusive quality to that mind, and those large, dark eyes. It made him want to strap him down and drive into him without reserve, making him cry out until he was hoarse from voicing his pleasure.

He moaned as he thrust inside the tight heat of Lawliet's body, holding it to him and burying his face against a slight, pale shoulder. "Jesus," he breathed as they began moving as one and finding their rhythm. He loved the noises they made, Lawliet's groans and his own hitched breaths and moans. He couldn't actually sort out which ones belonged to whom, but each one flared in his belly, stoking the raging fire that burned there.

Finally, he lay Lawliet back, catching his lips and folding his right leg far forward, allowing him to penetrate more deeply. Both of them were breathing heavily, hearts racing and flesh throbbing with unsated need. He thrust into his partner in a rapid pace, stroking him off just as roughly and feeling both of their bodies responding with the pre-shudders of orgasm. "Fuck," he exclaimed as Lawliet cried out, his body clamping down upon him in undulating waves. He thrust into that welcome heat until everything fell apart around him and he collapsed from the force of his climax.

* * *

"So what you're telling me," Sophie said the next morning, looking skeptical as hell, "Is that you left the office while I was gone, and for the rest of the day for that matter, because you were adopting a cat who was going to be put down - unless you were there, in person, to claim him?"

"Uh... yeah." L tried to be convincing but he knew it was a bust. From the inception, the story only had about a ten percent chance of being believable. Twelve percent, if his delivery had been impeccable.

"And you expect me to believe that while your giant hickey is staring me in the face?"

_D'oh!_

She raised a brow, looking quite unimpressed at his apparent lack of appreciation for her intellect. "What's his name?"

L almost choked on his own spit. "What?"

"His name," she repeated impatiently. "The cat?"

_OH. _"Um," he said stalling for time. There _was _no cat. There was never a cat. There was just Light, and those eyes of his and the vivid memories of the multiple times they'd had sex last night. "Blackie," he said sheepishly, his mind conjuring that black cat he'd never gotten around to getting. Instantly, he knew what he needed to do now after work.

* * *

"Blackie?" Light laughed at him later, watching a white kitten with striped caramel spots poke around L's living room. Maybe it had been a mistake to take him along to the animal shelter. Or perhaps the mistake was in recounting his conversation with Sophie. He hadn't decided which. "You can be stupid in the most brilliant of ways, Lawliet, I love it."

"Shut up," L groused, frown lines marring the skin between his brows. He was irritated. Mostly at himself for, as Light so aptly put it, being stupid. "Is it my fault they didn't have a black one?"

Light's amused smile widened, almost a grin, threatening to burst open with laughter. He barely held himself together as he said, "Of all the names to pick, you had to go with one that was _sure _to shoot you in the foot."

Kitty jumped up onto the arm of the couch and the scraping sound of little claws could be heard as she tried to keep her balance. The sky blue satin bow on her neck, placed there by well-meaning staff, while cute, just now seemed to mock him. "My couch," L said sadly, seeing where this whole cat business would end up. He reached over with one hand to pick up the warm little fluffball, who started purring almost instantly, and winced as the leather protested the tiny, needle-like claws that didn't immediately unlatch. The whole of her small body reverberated with the purring and it seemed to shake her very ribs which still stuck out a bit. He settled her in his lap and she playfully bit at the palm of his hand in contentment, blue eyes bright and mischievous.

"Now," Light mused, "who was it that suggested the delights of pet ownership to me? My memory is a little hazy."

"You're insufferable," L muttered under his breath.

"Oh, take it like a man," Light mocked him, hooking a hand at the back of L's neck and pulling him into an unexpected kiss. It was hard and rough, and just the sort of thing that could turn aggravation into fuel for something else entirely. Light's mouth bruised his, teeth nipping his lips if he wasn't careful. Then he would tongue him long and slow, showing possession like an apology.

They started to sink down into the couch, completely oblivious to anything but each other, when the cat let out a miniature squawk and fled the area, ears flipped back in disapproval.

"You're scaring the cat," L said blandly as he looked her way, out of breath and with his shirt already half unbuttoned. Light's hand was stroking his hip as he, too, spared a look at the cat. "What must she be thinking?"

"What, didn't you have The Talk with her yet?" the brunet asked unrepentantly as he started kissing a trail down L's chest.

"Mmn..." L closed his eyes, unable to focus on much of anything when Light's mouth got to work. "Never seemed... like the right time..."

* * *

"Are you going to work tomorrow?" Light asked lazily, lounging naked in L's bed.

L, also nude in his own bed, pondered the less extravagant setting his bed offered as opposed to the one the brunet owned. Instead of answering his question, which obviously had only one answer, he said, "Are we making a habit of this?" On second thought, that wasn't what he'd been about to ask, but he supposed it was a valid inquiry.

"Do you want to make a habit out of it?"

"That depends on how much work you think that I would be missing as a result." He subtly implied he was unwilling to drag his career down because of the brunet's whims and fancies to play hooky.

"Oh, Lawliet, you are ever the romantic." The sarcasm was not so much hinted at, but wielded like heavy bludgeoning object. Light propped himself up on an elbow and surveyed him with an unhurried gaze. "Much like the straightforward nature of these cotton bedsheets."

_Aw, I knew he was going to make a crack about them eventually. _L frowned. Geez, you'd think that the supple 400 thread count sheets would be good enough for a prince. Apparently not. "Is my lack of extravagance offending your sensibilities?" he inquired with mock politeness.

Light smiled, lying back and putting his hands under his head. "Not at all. It's refreshing, actually."

"I'm starting to think that you are a contrary creature by nature," L accused.

"Perhaps," Light nodded, unperturbed. "What time is it?"

"Uh..." L had no idea. He wasn't wearing a watch and the alarm clock was on a table across the room. He might've been able to read it, only he kept it turned to face the wall to reduce the ambient light in the room while he tried sleeping. "I'll go check."

He slipped from the bed, leaving the cover of the sheets, and went over to the clock. Air hit every inch of his skin, almost as thoroughly as the brunet's eyes which were upon him. "Eleven p.m.," he announced, turning around and noting that Light wasn't even bothering to mask his staring. His eyes roved comfortably over L's feet, his thin ankles, up his long, pale legs, sweeping up his torso and chest, before settling upon his face with almost a soft expression playing upon his fine features.

L tilted his head and asked, "You aren't a nympho, are you?"

"Only if you are," the brunet answered smoothly. He looked all too comfortable lying in bed, sheets covering less than they showed. L still marveled at the grace and strength of his lean, tanned body.

L's eyes became riveted suddenly as Light rose up, stretching his arms well above his head, the sheets falling and not leaving much to the imagination. He'd sort of seen it all before, but not when he was clear of thought, unencumbered by desire. As Light slipped from the bed, leaving no part of his beautiful, articulate body to the imagination, L felt the very _fleeting _nature of that 'unencumbered' state. The brunet had a swimmer's build, an appealing V-shape to his torso, narrow hips and long, well-defined legs. He really did move like a dancer. No step was misplaced or less than purposeful. He was fascinating to watch.

Light's gaze caught his and a knowing smirk graced his lips.

L flushed slightly, not used to being quite so open as Light was wont to be.

"You drink coffee, correct?" the brunet asked as he retrieved his clothes from the living room.

"Certainly," L responded, grabbing a pair of boxers out of his dresser, not yet at the comfort level that would allow him to walk around his brightly lit living room while his guest could see him. He slid them on, then went to collect the rest of his clothing from where it lay strewn upon the floor.

Light was just now zipping up and fastening his slacks. "And you wouldn't be sleeping for hours yet, am I right?"

"Well..."

"Let's be honest," Light prompted, eyes flicking his way as he pulled on his button-down, collared shirt with precision. His hair was mussed and he carried an aura of sensuality about him which seemed at odds with the transformation the clothes were applying to him - one which made him appear like some kind of clean cut business professional.

Light seemed to have already guessed his sleeping habits. It was probably useless to hedge about it anyway. "I try to sleep, but I am usually still lying in bed, awake at this time," he grumbled, not liking the way he had to pretty much admit to being plagued with insomnia.

"Perfect," the brunet said, donning his suit jacket with a flourish. "Come on then, I'll buy you a coffee."

"What, now?" L asked, surprised.

Light gave a bland glance around the room, in which absolutely nothing was going on. Even the cat was asleep. "Unless there was something pressing for you to attend to, which I somehow missed?"

"Well," L began, doing his own pan around the room which did nothing but support the brunet's unimpressed look. It wasn't that he was against the idea of coffee, _per se…_"Uh..." he said reluctantly, "would this coffee constitute a date?"

Light tilted his head to the side as he regarded him. "It's just coffee."

L felt both relieved to hear that as well as bothered. He debated several things he might have said in response, mostly on the topic of dating, but Light chose to break the brief silence first.

"Finish getting dressed already," he chided. "With as slow as you are, it's amazing you can see patients in a timely manner at all."

L muttered under his breath as he tucked his shirt in and fastened his pants. One thing that had concerned him was the matter of conversation. He did not know his companion all that well, and introductions had mostly been of the physical sort. He was half afraid there would be nothing to talk about. What with the sexual tension, which they seemed good at keeping between them, being largely gone... they would be quickly finding out how they actually got along on a personal level. L already had mixed feelings regarding the brunet - he was equal parts insufferable and intriguing. On one hand, his manner always had a taste of arrogance and smugness to it, seemingly poised to sharpen itself at any moment, to the detriment of whoever was present. It felt unstable, which L didn't much like. On the other hand, even the little comments Light was prone to tossing out always seemed to inspire a great deal of curiosity in him which made him want to court disaster, though cautiously.

Dating was something that, at this present time, would be nothing but a bad idea. It was a close tie to have with someone, let alone a person he was this unsure about.

You could call it paranoia. You could, but with what he'd seen in his profession, he'd rather err on the side of caution.

Which is pretty funny when you consider their present location, in his _home_.

L shook his head, wondering how his judgment had had such a strange misfire like that.

"You know," Light said conversationally as they headed out, "I'm trying to determine which look of yours I like better: The suit and glasses, or the contacts, sloppy clothes and the show-stopping case of bed-head."

* * *

TBC

**A/N:** The chapter title was a little bit of a trick on you guys, to get you assuming something explosive was going to happen with L's assistant. Haha. Sorry, I couldn't resist!


	5. Fixation

**Psych**  
Death Note AU  
(L/Light or Light/L)

* * *

**Summary:**Sometimes the strangest of happenings, by that merit alone, are the most memorable. Lawliet, a professional who makes his living by understanding the workings of the human mind, finds that a chance meeting throws him a real curve. Yaoi. (As always, it will be of the L and Light variety)

**Disclaimer:**Please see Chapter 1 for full disclaimer.

* * *

Chapter 5: Fixation

"Good morning, L."

"Morning," L mumbled through a yawn. He'd been getting even less sleep than usual. Somehow, Light had finagled him into going out almost every night this week. Perhaps it was the promise of figuring him out that had lured him in. Regardless, they never seemed to talk about much in the way of personal topics. Conversations had been more in the vein of recent events, books, politics, etc. Even things that related to their jobs hadn't seemed to quite come up naturally.

It was aggravating.

The time was well spent, enjoyable even. But. BUT. He was no closer in determining anything important about the mystery Yagami Light presented. Each night, he told himself that he would finally work everything out, even to the extent of determining whether or not he should continue in the man's acquaintance. But, by the end of the night, he would realize that he was no closer to his goal than before.

_**Coffee.**__ He needed coffee._

A small rebellion was mounting in L's sleep-clouded mind. He didn't even hear Sophie trying to talk to him. He bee-lined to his liquid addiction and poured a ridiculous amount of sugar into it. As it slowly sank and dissolved, he recalled Light's ribbing him over just such a thing that first night they went out together. It had prompted more than a few jokes at his expense, which should have been irritating, but instead Light managed to _tease_in a way that was...

_Ugh!_ He was a damned psychiatrist, and yet he had no earthly idea how the brunet managed to make fun of him while also seeming to be flirting and undressing him with his eyes. There was this... this AURA about him - this stupidly compelling _way _about Light that just pulled him into the other man's pace, forgetting everything else.

_You really are a jerk_, he thought as he knocked back half a cup of the near-scalding coffee. Good thing the massive amounts of sugar had cooled it down a bit.

He should probably cease and desist with Light.

Turning the idea over in his head, he sounded out how he felt about that. Again, the results were inconclusive. He drained the rest of the cup and set about refilling it. In any case, going out every night was not sustainable. It wasn't like they were having sex, either - they were legitimately going out... possibly on _dates_, though the brunet had adamantly denied such a thing. They seemed to get along quite well, the time passing too quickly. But that was part of the problem. He couldn't allow things to get too involved before he found out more about Light himself.

So, it came to the rebellion. Since he was not finding out what he wished to know, he would just stop the going out before it was a habit. He'd half-heartedly refused to go out before, but the brunet had always managed to convince him to be dragged along.

Maybe a couple of days or longer would change a few things. Perhaps he'd sort out how to be able to swing the conversation to the things that were pecking insistently at the back of his mind.

* * *

Light stretched, his big leather office chair spinning slightly, then rested his chin on his hand as he stared at nothing in particular. He had finished his clients for the day, and was finding himself at a loss. He was, if he didn't know better, listless.

Usually, he knew just how to handle people, but as of late, he'd become less certain.

Sure, his clients left his office, more-or-less pleased as usual, but they weren't the issue. It was a certain colleague of his. A certain dark-eyed, blunt and impassive doctor who was, at times, impossible to read.

L, or _Lawliet_, as Light preferred calling him, was a puzzle. It was obvious that the man was interested in him, more than just physically, and yet... he had an air of reluctance about him which was hard to crack. It was a sort of wariness and there was the impression that he was on guard at all times, just beneath his cool, collected exterior. Light took pains to chisel away at it, sometimes just through the simplicity of teasing or light insults which were sure to get a reaction. But even those reactions were not well beneath the surface. They came and went like wind and rain upon a giant ocean, ineffectual in stirring the currents.

Light had to smile in amusement, the situation being what it was. The two of them were laughable, courting each other when both of them were psychiatrists. Wasn't that a prize? A sure thing for failure.

Maybe that was the reason behind Lawliet's avoidance of terming their interaction anything so permanent as dating (as impermanent a thing as that can be). He couldn't be sure. All he knew is that he'd seen the stubborn streak rise in Lawliet the moment he'd asked about going out for coffee the first time. He'd had the notion that agreeing it was a date would stop everything in its tracks. So, of course, he lied.

It wasn't his first choice. He rather liked how Lawliet's own bluntness encouraged him to say many of the things on his mind that he might otherwise filter out and never speak aloud. It was a bonus to see when something he'd said managed to actually shock his stoic companion, though it never seemed to have a lasting ill effect. However, he had to play his cards close to his chest or else end things altogether.

It was also getting harder and harder to divert conversations away from anything too personal. He wondered how long it would be before things came to the breaking point.

* * *

L went home after work to feed the cat. Then, he rummaged around in his closet, found some old clothing that looked nothing like anything he'd worn in the past several years and put it on.

Black jeans, which had been a gift from his adoptive father, and leather boots, which were from Sophie - she'd claimed that no one can live without at least one pair of good boots and was aghast that he'd owned none. She'd likely be more aghast if she found out he'd not ever worn them in the two years he'd had them. He also had a black and grey hoodie he'd purchased out of desperation on a poorly timed and very rural vacation a few years back. 'Scotland' was proclaimed in very large letters across the back, in plaid, along with a giant plaid silhouette of a thistle. It was sort of obnoxious and sort of charming in a way that had kept him from throwing it out, though he'd considered it on multiple occasions, and had earned it a place deep in the back of the closet where it could be forgotten about.

Finally, he crammed a hat down over his hair. He wasn't a big fan of hats. Still wasn't, really. He wasn't even sure how or why he came by this one exactly, except that one time at University he managed to get utterly smashed, he'd woken up at someone else's house, on their couch, curled around said hat like he was a kid with a teddy bear. He'd kept it for years, never quite able to get rid of it in case someone showed up on his stoop one day, asking for its return. Unlikely, he knew. Besides, he didn't even know whose house it was - no one had been home when he woke, so he just left. It had been late at night, and he'd still been very drunk, so the thought of looking up the house number and address later had never occurred.

It was a dark, military-style brimmed knit cap with "Eat Shit" emblazoned on the side. The red letters were dark enough that it shouldn't be too noticeable unless someone was staring right at it. Or so he hoped.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

Oh yes, absolutely disorienting. He hardly recognized himself.

L went to his dresser and rummaged around in a drawer until he found a lightly tinted pair of sunglasses, just dark enough to hide his face, but easy enough to see through at night. He put them on and checked his reflection once more. Oddly enough, he looked kind of trendy and fashionable, in a somewhat drug-addled way. The cap pushed his shaggy black hair down almost to his shoulders as well as out of his face. The shades had a mirror tint that reflected the light and sat well just under the smart brim of the cap. His skin looked designer pale. He shook his head and the stranger in the mirror did as well. Huh.

Disguise complete, he headed out for the night.

* * *

Light looked at his phone apathetically, uselessly reading the message he'd received earlier one more time as he leisurely took a sip from his G&T.

He wasn't much of a drinker, or bar hopper, for that matter, but he hadn't felt like doing much at home when he got off work, so he'd gone out. Coffee and the like was much more his thing, but he didn't feel like small comforts. Besides, going out for coffee had become inextricably entwined with Lawliet in his head, which aggravated him.

Oh yes, he'd much rather frequent a bar for the evening than go somewhere that would do nothing but remind him of dark eyes and the company he was used to having with him, which were withheld from him this evening.

He let loose a sigh and signaled the bartender to refill his glass.

_It's only been... what? A week? _

_(Light, Light, Light, you're losing your touch.)_

Maybe he _was_ losing it. When had he ever felt remotely attached to someone this quickly? And it wasn't even that noticeable a thing. Until now. Just now, he felt all sorts of irritation at having the possibilities of the evening whittled down to nothing. By all rights, he should just find something or _someone _else to occupy him, but he couldn't be rid of the annoyance that jagged through him every time he carelessly thought of Lawliet. They'd talked and talked each evening, drinking loads of bitter coffee (though in Lawliet's case, it must have tasted purely of sugar), all the while studying each other surreptitiously. Gestures, expressions, body language. There was so much more said there than mere words. The words weren't even important. The looks, however, were. The way their eyes would meet or part, the casual brushing together of one of their leg's against the other... the quick wetting of lips. It was all delightfully engaging.

He'd let Lawliet keep his distance, but at the same time he would keep reeling him in. He made no overt advances, though he flirted subtly all the same. It was a fine game and he loved picking up on the inconsistencies in his companion's manner. He surprised himself with how often the urge came to touch Lawliet's pale skin or tilt his face up for a kiss.

The alcohol burned on its way down, as if trying to burn away the fixation of his thoughts.

How ironic it was that they'd shared the practice of visiting other doctor's offices in the guise of patients? He'd almost died of laughter when he'd realized it, seeing that it was Lawliet's face lighting up in shock as he'd lowered his shades (and seen just whose office he happened to be in). It had taken him by surprise as well, seeing Lawliet's face revealed from behind the sunglasses, but it was so goddamn interesting and perfect. And just like his first meeting with the wild-haired doctor, he was so taken with everything about him that the urge to jump him just became overwhelming. The expressions Lawliet made in reaction to him and the grudging attraction in his dark eyes... not to mention the exhilaration he'd felt when they'd begun trading words, skating around insults, games, and professionalism...

He took another drink, trying futilely to dispel his wayward thoughts as memories of the dark-haired man falling prey to his lips and hands made his body throb. That first kiss - or even the second - there was so much raw energy in it, so much passion. He'd wanted to devour those things. Swallow them whole.

The crux of it was... the reticence Lawliet displayed. Not with sex, but with unmasking himself. His true self. It was there in brief flickers, but he hadn't yet found a way to pry free the cage that had been set about it. And it was a fickle trap. One that might backfire if worried too relentlessly.

Oh, the conundrum of it all. Who would have thought a little thing like office gossip about the competition would have led him here? He'd hardly believed that such a small outfit as L & Associates could possibly house anyone with skill, and eventually he'd decided to see it for himself.

_So, here I am, nursing a drink, an infatuation, and a bout of existentialism._

He laughed, smiling ruefully. The bartender sent him a questioning glance as if to ask him what was so funny. "Here's to romance," he said drolly with a tilt of his glass.

* * *

L was bar-hopping. He'd admit it.

Part of it was to reclaim some feeling of independence, to remember what things had been like before the cat, and before Light. Part of it was to rid himself of the cloying feeling of incompetence he'd suffered at the last psychiatrist's office.

_Gawd_, he thought, slurring a little even mentally. _Fucking ridiculous, poorly educated... _the rant went on almost unnoticed in his mind as he scuffed his feet on the dark, wet concrete, hood pulled up over his cap on account of the rain. His hands were jammed deep into his pockets to avoid the chill on the air.

He should just stop this fruitless exercise already, before he became an alcoholic or something.

Warmth and laughter spilled out onto the street from an open door.

He cast his eyes up over the doorway to see the name of the establishment. "Last Orders" the bar sign proclaimed. He shrugged. Sounded good enough. Besides, he was tired of walking and the light and ambiance was inviting compared to the cold dark.

He pulled the hood back off of his head as he went inside.

It seemed almost more like a club than a bar. Navigating the people and smoke was almost akin to dancing. The music blared and pulsed loudly, but not so much as to be painful. Gads of drunken people swayed to it, weaving and moving amidst and with each other. He did the same as he moved forward, quite comfortable in his guise of someone that wasn't him, the melody sowing itself in his ears and guiding his feet. Women with lightly teased, spiky hair and extensions swam in front of his eyes, dancing before and with him, swirling around and trading places. Sometimes it was guys with various styles of hair and dress. All of them shared being caught up in the moment, dancing with him, whoever caught their fancy, or whoever happened along.

Some got a little touchy-feely, placing a hand upon his hip or chest as they shimmied to the floor and back up again, or moved in close, but it wasn't personal. It was just they way of the dance. There was just a movement and energy about it that was affecting people as much as the alcohol. His hat seemed to garner special favor, and one especially enthralled young lady stroked her hand across it before falling against him in a brief kiss. She winked and patted his cheek playfully before fading back into the crowd.

* * *

"Hey, Handsome," a feminine voice said at Light's elbow.

He turned, a canned smile upon his lips. He was feeling pleasantly dulled by the alcohol and had just been starting to appreciate the atmosphere. The place had gotten a bit more lively now, and he liked the energy. Here was a place where people acted on impulse, no matter how debased it might seem at the time, using the flag of alcohol to explain away their later embarrassment. "Hello," he said, using a voice that his patients seemed especially enamored of. She was exceptionally pretty, though that was no indication of whether she would hold any interest. But, what the hell. "Care for a drink?"

"Already indulging," she said with a giggle, holding her glass up and sloshing it only a little. Her hair seemed to be a blue-lavender, with both curled and straight sections that were held into twin pigtails. Her straight bangs swept over her eyes. "What's your name?" she asked, her gaze shining with promise.

"Lawrence," he said, not really sure why he'd used Lawliet's alias at all.

She giggled again, sidling up to him. "That's a silly name," she said coyly, "and long."

"Do you know of something better?" his lips tilted in a slight smirk. _How ridiculous._

"Well," she drawled, placing a small hand on his chest, "How about Law? Or L?"

He laughed, genuinely. _L? Oh, how priceless. _"Excuse me, Miss-?" he said, turning to grab his drink off the bar and taking a hearty swig, trying to curb his mirth.

"Lucy," she said hopefully.

Well, he supposed he could entertain her for the moment. It was a fair trade in amusing him so thoroughly with that.

* * *

L finally made it up to the bar. Some girl with weird-colored pigtails was loitering in front of the only open stool, preoccupied with a guy on the adjacent one, so he had to go down to the other end of the bar to gain the bartender's notice.

He ordered a longneck and spared another glance down the bar. Something about that girl and guy bothered him.

"Here you go," the bartender said, handing him the bottle.

"Thanks." L put money down and slipped back into the crowd which, somehow, seemed less crowded than the bar.

* * *

"Let's dance!" Lucy said in Light's ear, getting into his personal space about as much as humanly possible.

He looked out over crowd, feeling rather ambivalent. He wasn't really in a mood to shake his ass like the rest of them, however...

"Pleeeeease," she cajoled, pulling on his arm.

However, as he'd been randomly scanning the crowd, a few people had caught his eye. _Might as well get a closer look._

He pressed a kiss to her mouth to shut her up, rendering her rather awestruck. Then, he led her into the press of bodies.

It was mayhem. The music rushed like a live thing, strobe lights flashed and skin was bared and visible everywhere. Much like Lucy, many of the girls were wearing thin-strapped tank tops and they danced like they were having sex. He played the part, but his eyes were roving. The bass beat into his body like thunderclaps, the strobes casting white and shadows upon the moving bodies like lightning. So many faces, so many details to catch the eye. But nothing that stood out so much as... _**There**__, with the mirrored shades. That's the one._

"Elllll," Lucy simpered, distracting him with his false nickname, and he lost sight of the person again. _Damnit!_

He wrapped an arm around his witless date and kissed what little sense she had from her head. He could tell when her knees were just about to go weak and that is when he did his disappearing act.

* * *

L had completely lost track of who he was dancing with. Everything was a blur. Not yet in a bad, hangover sort of way, but in that shining edge of almost-too-much which was more a euphoric high than a signal to stop. He usually didn't overdo things, but too much was going on in his head lately, and it was so freaking nice to have it all fade into the background.

It was also liberating, being part of the grinding crowd like this. Taken in, accepted as one of the masses, pawed and danced with in a way that was somehow just an ego boost more than disturbing. He wasn't thinking too much, but it did cross his mind that if random strangers were wanting to get up in his business, than it wasn't so inconceivable that Light had done so. Maybe it had all been legitimate after all.

Someone's hands alighted on his hips from behind as a girl with magenta and black hair and a lip ring danced in front of him, hands knotted behind his neck. It was amazing he could see at all through his shades, transparent enough as they were; it was so dim in here. She leaned in, up close and personal as she grooved out, and the person behind him did likewise. He could feel the heat of their body against his back, not quite touching except against his backside, and the way their hands guided his hips as they moved to the music. It seemed more scandalous, somehow, than the other dancers thus far. He was torn between moving away and distraction.

The hands slid down his hips caressingly, taking liberties as they swayed to the thudding beat which was only marginally louder than L's thudding pulse.

He told himself to melt into the crowd, but he was rooted to the spot. Magenta girl was either happily oblivious or didn't mind being part of a sandwich. A questing hand trailed up his abdomen, under his hoodie, making L's eyes nearly roll back in his head and he was pulled back against the person's body. Such sure hands, tracing his skin like they were familiar with it.

Oh, he was much too drunk for this.

He couldn't even properly resist when a gentle, firm hand caught his chin and tilted his head back for a kiss. Soft lips and a passionate mouth moved against his, making reaction jolt through him almost as quickly as familiarity.

Was he drunk and delirious enough to be hallucinating? Or was this really...?

But why would Light be here? It seemed inconceivable. But who else had ever kissed him like this, making thought damn near impossible?

The hand stroking his stomach was slipping lower again, playing at the waistband of his boxers which stuck out a bit over his pants. Then, lower.

_Good God. _Desire struck him deeply, like some sort of ill-fated arrow touched with poison.

His partner released him, just as he was about to break away to keep his knees from buckling. He turned, snatching his shades off his face meeting Light's honey-thick gaze without barriers. _How in the hell?_

It must have been written all over his face.

Amusement lit up Light's sultry features. "Keep dancing," he said, pulling close again.

L's gut clenched in desire and his face flushed as their hips brushed together. It seemed that Light was just as turned on as he was. "Did you even know it was me or was that a mistake?" L asked in a contrary tone.

Light leaned in to nibble his ear. "Maybe it was a happy accident," he proposed silkily, knowing it would wind Lawliet up.

"Maybe you're full of crap," L countered, though he'd stiffened.

"Maybe so," he agreed.

"You didn't know I was here." Dancing was a farce; it was more like struggling against a closing net of desire.

"No. And you did not know I was here, either." Light's hand trailed up his back. "I'm surprised at you, Lawliet," he said against L's mouth, "letting a stranger _touch_ you like that." His words sounded heavy, slow and seductive. "And _kiss _you like that," he murmured, ghosting a kiss across L's lips. "How equal-opportunity of you."

"Shut up," L said somewhat breathily, though he sounded annoyed as well. "You couldn't know it was me before you sought me out. If I'm guilty, you are as well."

"Au contraire, _mon trésor en sucre_. I knew it was you the moment I saw you." Light traced the curve of one of Lawliet's hotly flushing cheeks, smiling alluringly. "Your pale skin," he said, "and the shape of your lovely mouth..." he leaned in and drew the tip of his tongue upon L's lower lip teasingly. "How could I not have recognized it?"

"You're never going to let me live down my sugar habit, are you?" L said in response to the embarrassing yet compelling sound of French on the brunet's tongue.

"Where would the fun be in that?" Light kept up the teasing but, looking at Lawliet, he was about as starry-eyed as he himself felt. He wanted so badly to find a convenient wall to push him up against. His imagination had been running quite rampant for some time now, in no small parts thanks to the alcohol which was undoing the better portion of his self-restraint. "Hey," he whispered in his ear. "Is there anything I can do to persuade you to leave this mindless pit of abandon... in favor of something _full _of mindless abandon?"

"Are you hitting on me?" L's stomach was doing flip flops. God, Light's voice was like total porn.

"Whole-heartedly."

"You sounded almost prim and proper this time," L gave him a hard time, "I could hardly be sure." It certainly was a change from, _'I want to fuck your brains out.'_

"Which one is more effective?" Light asked with a charming smile.

"The kind where we leave now," L replied, avoiding a real answer. He hardly needed to hand the brunet a golden piece of information like that for his arsenal. Besides, he was afraid he was going to give into something even more indecent in public if they stayed much longer.

"I happen to know of a car parked conveniently close by."

"Good. Fine." L took a deep breath and started the tricky maneuver of making his way to the front door through the jamming sea of people. Honestly, this was the last thing he thought he would be doing tonight.

Light hurried to keep pace with him. When he pulled even, he slung a possessive arm across L's back, sinking his hand into his front pocket. He leaned in close to L's ear. "Ever done it in the back seat of a car?"

L felt his face flush for what seemed like the millionth time that night. Light was positively gifted with surprising him with what came out of his mouth, as well as with the scope of his actions. The interludes of PDA were bad enough, embarrassing if they weren't so rousing. (Not to mention the people he'd caught staring, quite a few with fascination); But there was also the matter of how the lining of his pockets was incredibly thin and he could feel every errant movement of stroking fingers. "Have you?" L returned.

"Not yet," Light said, tossing him a boyish, yet deviant smile.

L shook his head. "Now why do I find that hard to believe?"

They ducked around a group of drunken, mindless dancers, almost clear of the fray.

"I haven't the slightest," Light said airily. "You must be magnificently distrustful of others."

L shot him a baleful glance. "Oh, I'm sure that's it."

Light tossed him a kiss and a sexy wink.

_Oh yeah, he just loves fucking with me for some reason._

Cool air hit them like a blast as they stumbled outside.

L stumbled quite a bit more than he thought he should have. He held his arms out a little for balance as he swayed. He heard snickering, and he favored the brunet with what he thought was a rather dignified, pointed stare. He wasn't_ that _drunk.

"Look at you," Light laughed, doubling over a little and nearly losing his balance. "You're totally drunk."

"Sober enough to do this." L swung a backhand at his arm, very nearly making a solid hit. Nearly. The whole swinging motion turned him around a bit like a top and renewed the brunet's laughter.

"Brilliant! Brilliant!" Light got out, really doubling over with laughter now. His cheeks were flushed with cold and mirth and he looked nearly as wholesome as a boy scout. It was a horribly misleading vision. That mind was about as dirty as they come.

"I'll have you know," L slurred a little as he drew himself upright, "I am a blackbelt in... something... and..." was he feeling this drunk before? He hadn't thought so, but stringing words together was becoming an increasingly Olympian task. "And, I could kill you with one blow," he concluded. "With my feet."

The brunet found that even funnier. He was barely breathing now and he was shaking with silent laughter. It was probably a good thing he had the storefront of the bar to lean against or he might have just collapsed in the street.

L shuffled over to him. "You do realize," he said importantly, fisting a hand in the front of his companion's shirt "That if you're as drunk as I think you are... the backseat is a moot point?"

"Bite your tongue," Light scoffed. His eyes were bright, shining with insane amusement and the glaze of a happy buzz.

"Rather bite yours," L said, pulling him into a rough kiss.

Drunkenness apparently did nothing to stem the brunet's ability to make his knees go weak in seconds flat. Light's arm wrapped around his waist, pulling them bodily against each other.

It was hot. So hot.

He could hardly remember it feeling cold just moments ago. He was overheating and wanted out of everything he was wearing. Light's mouth pulled at his, melded with his, and undid him. Feelings racketed through him - desperation... peace... and the desire to fall into Light and never surface. There was also the urge to feel the brunet's beautiful lips and the heated embrace of his mouth upon every inch of his body.

Light pulled away, just barely breaking the connection. "You're going to get us arrested." His eyes were black as midnight, hardly any of the golden irises visible around the edges. Desire was such a compelling look for him.

"Not if you get us arrested first."

"On another night, I'd take that as a dare. Right now, please just _get in my car._"

"Is that the sound of your self-control snapping?" L said, brushing their lips together.

Light made a noise in the back of his throat and his eyes fluttered shut briefly like he was trying to keep hold of himself. "Mmmn, no. That happened at least 20 minutes ago."

"You must be running on fumes, then."

"Lawliet," Light groaned as L kept tormenting him. "Car, now. Otherwise, you have ten and a half seconds before I start ripping your clothes off right here in the street."

"Are you sure you can count that high right now?"

"No," the brunet said, a deviant smirk starting to tilt his lips. "I might miss a few numbers." He actually had the gall to reach down and undo the button on L's jeans. He also had the zipper part way down before he could be stopped.

L grabbed the top of his pants in a fist and peeled the brunet off the wall, tugging him along ungracefully towards the parked cars. He had no idea where he was going.

"This way," Light said, hooking an arm through his and veering left.

L recognized the black Porsche, the one with the red leather seats, at about the same moment the lights flashed, indicating the car had been unlocked by the keyfob in Light's hand.

They climbed into the car and soon discovered a flaw in Light's plan.

"Shit," Light said as he contemplated the backseat. The Porsche had something of a slightly raised center console bisecting the bucket-style seats. L was sitting sideways in one, leaning his back against the interior of the car, and Light was hovering over him, knees upon the other. "This is the wrong car for this sort of thing." There would be no laying down here.

"Then put that sexy brain of yours to good use and be creative."

Light slanted catlike eyes at him. "Oooh, does he have a mouth on him." He slinked over the obstacle which L's legs were currently bent over, and straddled his lap. He took a small triumph in the way Lawliet shuddered at the contact. "You and your stupid, sexy hat," he murmured against L's mouth as he dragged the hat from his head and kissed him hard.

The back seat was still a horrible design, any way you looked at it, but in a few short minutes, it hardly seemed to matter.

Light had detoured long enough to sit up and drag L's pants down off of his hips, removing one barrier between them before sinking back down upon his desperate body. L's grasping hand grabbed hold of the 'Oh (expletive)' handle on the ceiling of the car as Light ground against him, making his eyes roll back in his head like they were never coming back. "God," he breathed out. There was also this rolling thing he did with his hips that just... just...

"Fuck me," he said against Light's mouth as the brunet moved in to claim it once more.

Not that they could do anything like that without a decent amount of a flat surface to lie upon. _Damn stupid expensive fucking car_, he thought through the haze of sensation. _Who the hell would design seats like this so you couldn't even...?_

He started to shudder and lost his train of thought as Light reached behind him to stroke the tops of his naked thighs.

_Uuuhhhhnn._

Light's hand cupped the side of his face, fingers and palm lying against the curve of his jaw with his thumb caressing his cheekbone. It was a gentle, possessive touch which gave Light complete control over the movement of his head as the brunet dominated his mouth.

L's chest rose and fell with stilted breaths as the aching in his groin sharpened, expanded, _sharpened_, then exploded.

He cried out as orgasm rolled him like a toy ship on a rogue wave.

Light rolled with him, caught in the same gale. His hand slipped down from L's face to grip the back of L's neck as he sucked in a breath. "God, yes," he gasped as he began to shudder violently.

When it was over, Light's head sank down to rest in the crook of L's neck. "Maybe I can forgive the Porsche after all," he murmured in a voice that sounded like it had been sucked dry.

L was pretty sure his own voice had no life to it in the least, so he simply brought his hand up to rest atop the brunet's silky head in silent agreement.

* * *

TBC

**A/N: **I think I may have topped the elevator scene in Pitch with this.

(Random inappropriate places to have lurid sex. Cough cough.)


	6. Necessary Means

**Psych**  
Death Note AU  
(L/Light or Light/L)

* * *

**Summary:**Sometimes the strangest of happenings, by that merit alone, are the most memorable. Lawliet, a professional who makes his living by understanding the workings of the human mind, finds that a chance meeting throws him a real curve. Yaoi. (As always, it will be of the L and Light variety)

**Disclaimer:**Please see Chapter 1 for full disclaimer.

* * *

Chapter 6: Necessary Means

"I think you're a bad influence on me," Lawliet said later, back at Light's house. It was a fair supposition, seeing as they were wearing nothing but their own skins and a fading afterglow.

Light groaned, rolling slightly upon the bed as he covered his head with his hands. "Lies. _You've _corrupted me with drink." His head was already starting to pound ominously. "I never have this much."

Lawliet had the gall to laugh at him.

Well, not outright, but it was apparent in his expression that he was merely holding it in.

The dark-haired man propped himself upon one elbow and regarded him lazily, like he had not a care in the world. Bastard didn't look ill in the slightest. "If you'll recall," his dark-eyed companion said, "we didn't have a single drink together. You can hardly pin this on me."

"Oh, you and your logic," Light said, flipping over and shoving his face into his pillow. He'd taken pains to drink a bunch of water. He was hoping it kicked in soon and evened him out. It hadn't occurred to him that he'd had enough alcohol to actually feel _bad_, and he certainly never thought the elusive doctor would be around to see it.

A hand smoothed over the back of his head, petting it like a cat. It was likely to placate him, but just now, Light could overlook it because it felt kind of nice.

"You know," Lawliet said, keeping his voice low and soft in deference to Light's current state. "We've never actually had a drink together. Not once. It's kind of funny, considering."

"Champagne didn't count?" Light asked, muffled by the pillow.

"Did you actually drink any of it?"

"Mn. A little."

"Yes, so as I said, we've never had a proper drink together."

"Not by my choosing," Light pointed out. "I _did _try to have you take me up on the offer."

L was silent for a few moments. Then, Light felt fingertips upon his back begin tracing haphazard, leisurely designs. It was nice. Calming, yet sensual. Intimate. It actually surprised him that Lawliet was doing it at all. Not that he would say anything. He didn't want to ruin it. So he just nestled his face more comfortably into his pillow, which was cradled upon his arms.

"And yet, after that you only ever invited me for coffee."

"Mn."

The fingers traced the curve of his spine in a long, slow line. It was infinitely distracting.

"Any reason?" L asked.

Light didn't say anything for a minute. "Maybe," he relented. Perhaps he could be a little more honest, now. The mood seemed more promising, somehow.

Fingers glided back up his back, and a warm palm smoothed across his shoulder blades in an arc. _God, the only thing that could feel better than this would be an actual massage._

"Inclined to share?"

Light gave it one last consideration. He didn't want to ruin anything on a whim, after all. But before he came to a decision, he felt Lawliet's leg slide over him as the other man straddled his hips and sat upon his backside. Strong hands alighted upon the flesh of his back, thumbs pressing into the muscles on either side of his spine and firmly pushing upwards, traveling towards his neck in a way that felt _Oh, so good_. They began to work at the hidden tension in his shoulders and upper back. It was turning his entire body to jello, it felt so amazing.

But there was also the matter of feeling Lawliet astride him like this, and his weight pushing his hips into the mattress. It was more than a little erotic.

"Light?" L inquired, leaning down to his ear to speak.

Light shuddered a little. He could feel the heat of Lawliet's body against his back, and it was so incredibly inviting. It was almost enough to make him forget he'd been feeling sick. "Were you a masseuse in school as well?" he asked.

"No," L responded, fingers moving to work again. They found the back of his neck and the base of his scalp, rolling, smoothing, and feeling generally fantastic. "But I'll take that as a compliment."

"Yes," Light agreed, his voice coming out like little more than a breathed moan. Unintentionally, of course. _God, his hands are just..._

"You were saying?" his companion prompted. "About the coffee?"

"Mnnnn. Yes..." Oh, it was incredibly hard to gather his thoughts at the moment. "You were so against a drink before. I thought coffee might be more agreeable."

"As a date?"

_Danger. _"Maybe." This situation was not ideal for this kind of ground to be covered. He didn't want to compromise himself by saying anything that was unacceptable. But it was a little hard to think in such plotting ways just now. He could hardly keep words from rolling off of his tongue.

"Yes or no?" the reticent man insisted as he started working the knots from Light's upper back.

It was nearly painful and yet it wasn't. It felt utterly necessary and was relaxing him even more as it steamrolled him, forcing a soft groan from his lips. "Yes," he admitted. "Yes, I thought you might object less to coffee."

"So you lied about it being a date." Lawliet's hands upon him had stilled.

_Goddamnit. _"I just wanted to spend some more time around you," Light said, practically holding his breath. "Does that have to be called a date?"

"I suppose not," he relented, resuming his massage.

Light sensed the retreat and decided to pursue. "Why does it matter so much to you? These labels you seem intent on placing upon things."

L's hands froze mid-motion for a moment. "It doesn't," he said. "I was just asking."

Light pushed himself up, turning over. He stared Lawliet in the face and said, "You're lying."

The dark-haired man kept his expression flat, but his eyes flickered in reaction.

"You're lying," Light repeated, trying to evoke a greater response. "Why?"

A frown twitched upon pale lips. "Why would I lie about something like that?"

Lawliet was spooking.

Light grabbed his hands, sitting up and holding fast. "What is it with you?" He searched his companion's face, eyes skimming every feature, seeking any minute expression that might live on that impassive face for even a moment. "Why that distinction? What does it matter?"

"I don't know what I want," L said, his eyes slightly wider than normal. Everything in his body language screamed _'let me go'_, but Light wasn't holding on all that hard. Lawliet was simply trying to keep his reactions in check, and his real feelings were just bleeding through.

"Most people don't," Light countered, catching Lawliet's gaze with his determinedly.

"But-" L's mouth turned down, working. He seemed frustrated, as well as on-edge and flighty.

"What are you afraid of?" Light asked pointedly.

L looked aside, thoughts running over his face like water.

Light almost felt like he was at work, trying to crack into someone's tough exterior, to dig out the issues. But this was infinitely more important. Definitely more high-risk. "Lawliet, what are you afraid of?"

Dark eyes glanced back at him, surreptitiously. His face was suddenly folding in on itself, closing off. _Damnit. _"Nothing," he responded. Even his hands in Light's had stopped pulling away. _Damnit, __**Damnit!**_

_How do I fix this?_

"Want me to drive you home?" Light said as if nothing was amiss.

L raised an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't feeling well."

"Absolutely horrid," Light agreed. "Though you must have magic hands because I am suddenly feeling like a new man."

Lawliet looked a little pleased at the praise, like he'd never received it before on this particular thing.

Light released L's hands and let him get up off the bed, then made a show of rolling his shoulders. "You do that for people often?"

"Um... not really."

Light risked shooting him a smile. "Seriously?" Then he looked away again as he shook out his limbs and stretched. Too much eye contact and Lawliet would move further out of range, he was sure. "But you're so good at it. I'm surprised."

"Well, school was stressful... I learned how to do it from a roommate I had. His mother was a masseuse. There were a few of us who learned and traded favors."

Light's eyebrows raised a little and he couldn't help saying, "Any _other _favors to go along with that?"

The dark-eyed doctor looked startled. "What? No." He was shaking his head and he looked a little flustered. "No, nothing like that."

"Why not?"

_Haha. _Now he looked even more flustered, standing there.

"Um," L said. He looked anywhere but at Light. "It... It just wasn't like that..."

Light slipped off of the bed and strolled over to him, right into his personal space. "You weren't interested in your friends like that?" He could feel an insinuating smile upon his lips. He couldn't quite suppress it. "Can I assume then, that when we first met and you said you didn't take kindly to being kissed by a patient, let alone a man...?"

Adorably, Lawliet put a hand over his face to hide a pink flush of embarrassment.

Light smiled wide. "You'd truly never entertained the thought before me?"

"Shut up," L said, wiping that hand over his face and trying to compose himself.

"I'd say, _'I'm flattered'_," he laughed, "but I'm sure that would piss you off."

"How astute of you," the dark-haired man said under his breath, still seeming more out of sorts than irritated.

"Come on, let's get you home," Light offered again. "I'm alright to drive now, and you wouldn't want to be any later, seeing as you have work in the morning."

"Oh, so you noticed?"

_Ah, so was that part of the reticence? Control and also the career? _"Of course. I'm not daft, nor am I inconsiderate." Lawliet gave him a look that was to the contrary. "Oh, come on, I never truly interfered with your work."

"I wouldn't say that."

Light tilted his head back in a somewhat imperious stance. "You, the insomniac, were being held prisoner by myself and coffee,** more **than by your own affliction?"

His companion chewed on the inside of his lip, looking stubborn.

Light sighed. "You could have simply _said _something if it was such an issue. Set a time limit or..."

"Would you have respected that?"

"Probably not, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't uphold the request. Work is work, after all."

Lawliet looked upon him, his gaze considering.

Now was the time to leave things off. They were in a much better place now than earlier. It would be better to end it this way. "So, ride home?" Light asked.

"All right. Thanks."

* * *

"I'm home," L announced to what was essentially an empty apartment. As he made his way inside, slipping off his shoes and pulling off the hoodie, he noted that Blackie was dead asleep on the couch, snoring a little.

He had the inclination to pet her soft tummy as she dreamed, paws twitching in the air, but he didn't want to wake her, so he on past to his bedroom.

His thoughts were full of everything that had gone on throughout the evening. He and Light... it was as if they were two magnets, drawn together. Who could have expected that of all the bars, they would end up in the same one, and end up leaving together?

_I like him._

_**Crap.**__ I really, really do like him._

The more he tried to keep his distance, the more Light seemed set on bringing it crumbling down around him.

Even later on, at Light's house, he'd started pulling away; and it was as if Light could sense it on the air - he'd locked on, engaged and somehow turned things about.

L shook his head. He wasn't even sure how the brunet did it.

_He'd actually_ _**lied**_ _to me; he as good as admitted it. About something important, no less. But he twisted things around to be about something else entirely - about __**me**__._

_'What are you afraid of?'_

Oh right, like he was going to spill his guts so easily.

L dragged his shirt over his head. His gaze strayed to the bed, and he could vividly recall the look of it with the brunet lounging upon it.

_It's only been about a week for godsakes. What am I doing getting all moon-eyed over someone this fast? _It was stupid. Ridiculous.

Part of him actually had wanted to stay with Light tonight - the part of him that was becoming increasingly irresponsible and prone to bad judgment.

He kicked off his shoes and went into the bathroom to wash his face. _Ridiculous_, he thought, through soap and water and toweling off. He reached over to replace the slightly damp towel on the rack, and caught sight of himself in the mirror. Bits of his spiky hair were dripping water, pure black, like tiny ink brushes trailing against his skin. He swept unruly, jagged hair back from the side of his neck with an angular hand and turned his head a little.

The hickey was still there.

It still looked like a wound on his pale skin, just like Light had said before. He touched it with ginger fingers. No, it no longer hurt. He almost wanted it to. Then he could feel, viscerally, the imprint the brunet had placed upon him, and their interaction would stop feeling like something that would dissolve like mist in daylight.

L drew his hand away in disgust, his circling thoughts oppressing him. He batted the light switch off and started unfastening his pants.

When did it get like this?

_When had I gotten stupid like this? Was it overnight? Or was it years in the making and I just never noticed?_

He kicked the jeans into a corner of the room and walked back into the living room. "Blackie," he called in quiet voice. He didn't do it because he expected the cat to answer, but just to get it used to its name.

She still lay on the couch, tummy up.

"Blackie," he said again.

Her ear twitched in response.

"Cat?" he tried dubiously.

Her little slitted blue eyes opened a crack, rolling back to look at him then she gave a mighty yawn.

He scooped her up and she paid him little mind, settling back into sleep. He started walking back to the bedroom, cat in tow. "Blackie," he said again as a test.

One ear flicked in a way that looked like she was saying, '_Shuush_.'

"Cat," he said.

Again, the blue eyes opened marginally and she looked at him blandly like he was simply the biggest moron on the planet right now for continually disrupting her sleep, despite how tolerant she was attempting to be about it.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

This seemed to mollify her and she tucked her furry white head down under her tiny paw.

Ok. What does one do about a pet that doesn't respond to its own name, but answers to the name of what it is? He couldn't really go around calling her 'Cat', could he? Hardly seemed proper, did it? People would think he was an odd, maybe a negligent pet owner who couldn't be bothered with something as simple and important as a name.

He deposited her on the foot of his bed and rubbed her little head, just about the ears. Her eyes didn't open but she tucked her head deeper under her paw and started purring.

_(Well, it could also be that she realizes how dumb the name Blackie is for her.)_

_Hmn._

L turned off the light and got into bed, trying to keep his thoughts on the cat as he tried to fall asleep, and not everything else.

* * *

A pain in his chest woke L up from a dead sleep in a slight panic. He was disoriented, thinking of knives and hostage situations, dreams clinging to his eyes and mind.

"Mrrow," came the noise just in front of his face as needles dug into his skin like slow torture.

"Cat?" he said as he winced. He was relieved, but damn those little claws hurt. What the hell time was it?

The clock across the room glowed at a steady 4:05.

Good god.

"Ow, ow, ow!" he said as the kitten resumed kneading its paws on his chest, purring like a little motorboat. He extricated himself and sat up, shaking his head in an attempt to rouse himself.

"Mrrow."

He looked down at the kitten in his hands. "What, cat?"

"Mrrrow!"

Somehow, this did nothing to convey her intentions.

He lifted her up in front of his face, giving her a bland look. It was too damn early for this. "_What_, cat?" He'd actually been asleep. Deeply asleep. This was a travesty. What was this little furball thinking waking him up at 4 a.m.?

"Mrr-ow?" She blinked at him, ears cocking back, then forward, while she purred even louder, like it was a defense mechanism.

L sighed and plopped her down on the bed. He rubbed his abused chest and his fingers came away with a tinge of red. "Damn cat," he said, getting to his feet.

"Mrrrow?"

There was probably no use trying to sleep now. Even if he was tired, he'd likely just lie there unable to fall back into unconsciousness. That's how it usually went.

He shuffled into the kitchen, rifling a hand through his unruly hair. About the only thing that could improve the morning right now was coffee. His bleary eyes were hardly useful, but he managed to find what he needed to get a brew started.

_Guess I could go into the office early,_ he thought, feeling less than enthused over the prospect. The coffeepot burbled happily. _I can catch up on some things... paperwork._

"Mrrow."

The cat was back, looking at him expectantly.

"Mrow."

He regarded the nuisance with a stern look, not failing to notice how cute the little terrorist was. "What do you want from me? Hmn?"

She opened her mouth wide. "MrrOW! Mrrow-OW!"

She seemed emphatic. He was at a loss.

"Guess I could feed you?"

"Mrrrow!"

"Right, then." Doing things before coffee. This just might be the death of him.

Ten minutes later, cat was happily chomping through her food, purring like a maniac, and he was sitting on a stool at the counter, nursing a cup of hot, overly sweetened coffee.

_What did I get myself into?_

"Cat," he said, giving the kitten a bland look.

"Mrrfff?" She didn't exactly stop stuffing her face, but she did seem slightly more attentive.

"We need to set some ground rules, here."

* * *

Catching up on things at the office was about as enlivening at 5:30 a.m. as it sounded at 4 a.m. this morning. That is to say, not at all.

"Good morning, Sophie," L greeted his surprised assistant when she came in at eight.

"Good morning," she said, looking him over with either caution or concern. It was hard to tell which. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Something like that."

"That's odd," she said, hanging up her coat. "Seemed to me you'd been sleeping alright lately."

"I hadn't noticed." Actually, he had. Apparently, his system was backwards enough that staying out late and drinking copious amounts of caffeine was enough to make him sleep like the dead. Inconceivably, Light's logic on that matter had seemed to ring true in the end. Instead of staying abed and waiting for sleep, he should just stay up all hours of the night. Prior to meeting the brunet and doing just that - retiring at a reasonable hour - he hadn't been sleeping as well. It was a fact. It irked him, because it shouldn't make any sense.

"How is the cat?"

"Fine."

"Something on your mind, Lawliet?" Sophie was frowning at him.

"Is being cute a defense mechanism?" he asked suddenly.

She gave him a weird look. "Are we talking about the cat? Or something else?"

This startled him. He'd meant the cat, of course, but... "The cat, the _cat_," he said, shaking his head in denial and returning her weird look. But... somehow it seemed equally applicable to a certain brunet who was good at getting his way.

"Okay, alright," she said, holding up her hands. "No need to get worked up."

"I'm not worked up," he said.

"If you say so."

"I'm not," he stressed and took an angry swig of coffee. His hand was shaking a little, like he was anxious. Why was he reacting like this? And so transparently - fooling no one but himself? It was utterly unnerving. "What did you think I was talking about?"

Sophie pouted at him, looking like entertaining this was the last thing she wanted to be doing - on par with cleaning tile grout just after having her nails done. "Well..."

"Because I was only talking about my cat," he insisted. His words came quickly, daring her to contradict them.

"Right," she agreed.

"Who woke me up at an _ungodly_ hour," he said with an increasingly acerbic tone, "stabbing her little nails into my chest like a pincushion because, _apparently_, she was hungry."

Sophie just nodded, her eyes a little wide. He wasn't yelling. He wasn't sounding harsh or combative like her look implied. Anyone would have been aggravated over the way he'd been woken this morning.

"So tell me, Sophie," he said imperiously, "what else could I _possibly _have been talking about?" He polished off his coffee in clipped motions.

"Erm..." She fidgeted, not wanting to field such a question. "Well, it seemed to me that you might be seeing someone. So..."

_God. _Did she have to be so completely right? Well, he had hired her for her brains. "And what gave you that idea?"

"L..." she implored, wanting to be free of this conversation before it got any worse. She was positively wilting, and looking hopefully at the phone as if willing it to ring.

"There must be something," he persisted snappily.

"Not that it's any of my business..." She sighed. "But aside from the hickey-" She tread carefully and gave him a look that said,_ 'Don't jump on me for that, you already knew that I knew.' _"There was also the day I had lunch with my sister. You left suddenly but your car was still here. It looked to me like an impromptu tryst."

"That doesn't mean I'm seeing someone."

"Of course it doesn't." She looked a little peeved. "Though I'd hope you wouldn't leave me stranded for some _nothing _sort of fling."

"It's not like that." He did feel bad about cutting out that day.

She rounded on him, her patience lessening as his ire deflated. "Well, which is it?"

"I don't know."

"Lawliet, there isn't a lot of wiggle room here. Either this person is a fling or you're in a relationship."

Dread washed through him. "I think you are writing off a ton of gray area here."

"No, I'm not. You're just being... overly particular."

This annoyed him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're the psychiatrist," she said curtly, "figure it out."

He swallowed his initial response of aggravation, as she actually seemed properly mad at him now, and tried to apologize. "Sophie..."

"Why don't you get yourself some coffee," she suggested shortly. "I have work to do."

"Yeah...ok." He crumpled the styrofoam cup in his hand and tossed it out. _Damnit. _He hadn't meant to start a row. They'd never even really argued before.

He got out a new cup and made another cup of coffee, more for something to do. The atmosphere was uncomfortable now, and it was all his fault. He entertained the idea of leaving the office, but it would only make things worse. They both needed to work in order to keep the doors open. And he'd already been unreliable as it was.

"You have an appointment in ten minutes," Sophie told him, her voice containing nothing but professionalism. There was not even a trace of her usual, easy-going friendliness.

"Thank you. Just send them right in when they get here."

"As you like."

The day dragged on and on and on like Time had decided it simply couldn't go on and had offed itself in a melodramatic fit, leaving the lot of them trapped in drudgery forever.

Maybe lunch would offer a respite.

Or maybe he should try apologizing again.

Apologizing was definitely the more uncomfortable option. It was probably the right one.

He made his way out of his office and could hear his Sophie laughing, "Oh, stop!"

He thought for a moment that she was on the phone but he also thought he could hear another voice. Well, at least she seemed in a better mood now. This might go easier than expected.

"Sophie, I-"

"Oh, L!" she interrupted, turning to look at him as he rounded the corner. She looked a little flushed. "You have a visitor."

L's feet stilled.

"He can wait," Light said enigmatically, effortlessly pulling Sophie's attention back to him. "Now, where were we?"

L felt his blood boil.

He was here under _what _pretense? He came in as a patient the last time, and for all Sophie knew, that is what he was. Patients couldn't just 'drop by' and expect to see him. And flirting with his receptionist was unacceptable. As was this dismissive behavior towards him.

"Can I help you, sir?" L said cordially, as he leveled Light with a glare like frozen daggers.

The brunet had the gall to lean in and say something in Sophie's ear, setting her atwitter. His eyes flicked briefly to L, taunting him with the smile that accompanied whatever words he was speaking.

It was one of those bright, shining smiles that were like the sun breaking through the clouds. Just now, it spiked through L with rough agitation. He bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

_'What are you afraid of?' _Light's words from the other night came back to him, a mockery.

What indeed.

L went back into his office and grabbed his coat. He shrugged into it as he walked back out. "I'll be back in an hour, Sophie," he said shortly.

"W-wait," she said, standing up. "But Light came here to see you-"

_Oh, so we are on a first name basis now?_

"He can wait," L said flippantly. He didn't bother looking at the brunet. He seriously wanted to punch him. "I'm sure he'll be quite happy to pass the time with present company."

With that, he started for the door.

"Doctor," Light's voice arrested him. It was so smooth and unhurried. He clenched his fists within his pockets. _Professional. Act __**professional**__. Stop letting him get to you._

"Yamaguchi-san?" He turned around, his best blank face in place.

Sophie was looking back and forth between them, looking tense.

"I thought I saw you the other night. You dropped this." In Light's hands was the military styled hat with 'Eat Shit' stitched along one side. That side, thankfully, was turned down, out of sight.

When had he lost his hat? Hadn't he been wearing it when he got home?

Light's voice matched his eyes, sly and solicitous, as he said, "It** is **yours, isn't it?"

L remembered suddenly, Light dragging the hat off of his head, then kissing him madly. It must have fallen to the floorboard in the back of the car...

His face flushed a little, against his will, and he beat it back with a vengeance.

Light's polite smile turned somewhat indecent and his eyes grew warmer and were intent upon him. They were very obviously thinking on the same course of events. _'Fuck me,' _Light mouthed the words back at him that he'd said that time when he'd been overwrought with desire.

L bit the inside of his cheek for an entirely different reason this time. It was inordinately difficult to keep expression off of his face. As it was, his face probably betrayed even more color than before. "Yes, I suppose it is. Thank you."

Light held it out to him, seeming quite like a stranger who was holding out candy to a child.

He took it gingerly, and jumped a little when Light's hands closed upon his own. "It's the least I could do," Light said, holding his gaze. "You gave me so much to think about during our session here." L's hands were shaking. Why was Light doing this to him? "I haven't stopped thinking about it, either. When can I see you again?" He was doing a right shoddy job of playing at being a patient. There was too much innuendo and questionable behavior.

The feeling of panic was doing its best to be unrelenting, possibly trying to kill him with heart failure in the next moment or so.

"If you mean an appointment, then Sophie will assist you with that." He managed a deadpan voice. A small miracle.

"Of course. Be seeing you, Doctor."

L practically fled the area as Light turned back to his assistant. He took the outside steps at an accelerated pace, his heart pounding in his throat. Only once he got into his car did he let all pretence fall apart.

He slammed his fist against the door of the car, beside himself with confused frustration. "What the fuck?!"

What was Light playing at?

_Last night, he'd seemed set on winning my trust, then today... Today he's chatting up Sophie, ignoring my existence, then practically busting a move on me in front of her. I don't get it!_

* * *

L returned to the office in an even lower mood than he'd been in all day.

"Welcome back," Sophie greeted him. She didn't even seem upset any longer. That should have made him feel better, but it didn't. He was too certain that Light was the reason for her change of heart.

"When is my next appointment?"

"In about 20 minutes."

"Thank you."

Damn him. Damn that rotten bastard for making him give a shit about this. And damn him for wooing his receptionist. It was heinous.

L went into his office and closed the door, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat down.

"You look stressed."

L whipped his head up to see THE rotten bastard lounging against his wall, where he would have been hidden by the door as L came in. "What the hell are you doing here?" Tension he'd managed to dispel earlier rippled through him like it had never left.

"Now, now, no need to be rude," Light said calmly, strolling over to one of the chairs in front of L's desk. He sat down like he belonged there. "Your lovely secretary said I could wait in here until my appointment, which is just a little ways off."

"That doesn't make any sense," L said stiffly. Patients always waited outside until they were called, not left to roam about their doctor's office. There were files and all manner of things they could get into.

"Hmn. Yes, she thought so as well. It took some doing to convince her otherwise."

_Oh, and what kind of convincing did __**that**__ entail? _"Get out." He knew he had a full schedule. Sophie would have had to call someone to take a later appointment so that Light could be here as a 'patient' right now. If he ever found out there was something like a quickie involved, he'd kill him.

"What for? I have every right to be here."

"No, you don't." His voice was like steel. "You aren't a patient, you aren't _anything_. Get out of my office."

Light's expression darkened, and it was unlike anything L had seen thus far. "Putting aside the favor I did you of making Sophie stop being angry at you," he said, rising to his feet, "which you are being obnoxiously ungrateful for, you might want to revise that little statement in the face of your rampant jealousy."

"I'm not jealous."

Light put his hands on the desk with a thud, leaning over them. His eyes were like twin blades. "You're fucking jealous, and you know it."

L gritted his teeth. "Would it make you feel good to think so? What would the point even be, Light?"

Light cursed under his breath and pushed away from the desk, turning his back and walking a few paces from it. He brought a hand up to his face and it looked like he was taking a deep breath or two.

"You're an idiot," Light said tightly. "Nothing but a brilliant idiot." He turned sharply on his heel and shot L a withering look.

L got to his feet, the fight coming out in him. If looks could kill. "An idiot for entertaining the likes of you, I suppose?"

Light laughed sharply. "You can't even see it. Inconceivable to me as it is, you just don't see anything."

"What I see-" L indicated all of Light with his eyes, "-is a heaping pile of contradictions."

"And where does the confusion lie? Is not stronger within your own mind than it is with me or my actions? I've been an open book with you."

"Hardly."

"Whatever it is that you're afraid of, it's making you blind. Stupid, and blind."

L's hands were shaking, he was so mad. "You come in here, seduce my assistant, and then have the balls to tell me you aren't full of misdirection? Insulting me on top of that, repeatedly."

"I'd insult you all damn day if I thought it would do any good," Light shot back.

They were practically in each other's faces, voices just low enough that they wouldn't carry.

"I would punch you in the face right now if we weren't here in my office," L said darkly.

"Oh?" Light sneered. "Because I 'seduced' your secretary? And what would you do if I'd _fucked _her?"

L grabbed him by the front of the shirt, "I'd make you really regret that - till your last breath."

Light grabbed L's hands and held them like vices. "Sounds like a crime of passion, to me." His eyes blazed and he forced L backwards, making him stumble to keep up. "Funny thing to occur when jealousy is absent, don't you _think_?"

L's back hit the bookcase.

_Light hadn't _actually_ done it with her... had he?_

His eyes burned a little as despair washed over him.

"_Think _about it, Lawliet," Light pressed, his tone softening, sounding just the slightest bit imploring. He was too close. Too affecting at close range. "You know what jealousy means. You don't get possessive over a one night stand."

L sagged in his grip, head falling low. He knew that much. He knew he cared, it's just that he'd been trying not to. "Was Sophie your way of making a point?" he asked under his breath. The flirting, the ignoring him, was it simply to show him he could feel jealous?

"What do you think?" Light's tone added on, _idiot_.

"Why are you here, then?" L didn't completely accept his explanation. Not yet. There wasn't enough information. Had he come simply to cause trouble? Or was the trouble an afterthought?

Light dropped his hands and moved away. "Just wanted to see you, I guess." He stopped meeting L's eyes. "And I had the feeling you wouldn't want to do lunch. I figured if I came in as a patient again, it would get me further."

L brushed off his sleeves as if they needed dusting off after their encounter. "Further with my receptionist, you mean."

Light made an irritated noise. "Nothing happened."

L gave him a sidelong glance, not buying it. "Well, that must have been one hell of a _nothing _to turn her mood around like that."

The brunet pushed his hair out of his eyes. "I mean, it didn't mean anything. At least she isn't mad anymore."

L sank back down into his chair and put a hand over his face. "Now she really **is **going to hate me, if she ever finds out."

Light sat on the edge of his desk. "So don't tell her about us."

"There is no 'us'."

"_Yes, there__** is**_. Denying it just makes you look like an idiot, as I've been so tactfully trying to point out."

L gave him an incredulous look. "There is nothing tactful about you."

"Oh, Lawliet, must you sensationalize everything?"

"Well, seriously."

"If I invite you out for a drink," he changed the subject, "are you going to turn me down again?"

L let out a sound of exasperation. Light was looking down at him with an expectant light in his eyes. A bit of a challenge in them.

"As a date," the brunet added stonily.

"..." L said.

"As in, we are dating, there is an 'us' and we are, in fact, in a relationship," Light continued, staring him down and daring him to be contrary about it.

"It's only been a week. How is that a relationship?"

"Most people don't fuck each other right off, I figure we're more advanced and we just skipped some of the preliminary dating time."

Usually the brunet would have tempered something like that with a smile, but his expression didn't change.

"Ah."

"Quit stalling," Light said, leaning over and tipping L's face up to his. "Call it what you want then, but at least admit that we have something between us."

"Yes, we certainly do."

"And that something compels you to let me take you out, just as it lets me have my way with you."

L swallowed as the words set off some butterflies in his stomach. The brunet's lips were hunting his now, his breath soft upon L's face.

"Just say, _'Yes, Light, I'll do whatever you want.'_"

"Why would I do that?" Light's voice was starting to transfix him. It was sweeping him away.

"I'll make it worth your while," the younger man promised, trying to coax him into cooperation as he brushed their lips together.

"You don't play fair," L murmured.

"'Fair' doesn't get me what I want." L could feel the brunet's lips curve into a smile against his own, just before he was kissed thoroughly.

* * *

TBC


	7. Molly

**Psych**  
Death Note AU  
(L/Light or Light/L)

* * *

**Summary:**Sometimes the strangest of happenings, by that merit alone, are the most memorable. Lawliet, a professional who makes his living by understanding the workings of the human mind, finds that a chance meeting throws him a real curve. Yaoi. (As always, it will be of the L and Light variety)

**Disclaimer:**Please see Chapter 1 for full disclaimer.

* * *

Chapter 7: Molly

"Doctor, are you listening t' me?"

L roused himself from distraction, pushing his glasses up higher upon his nose. "Yes, of course." He re-crossed his legs, and readjusted his professional concern expression. He'd quite missed the remainder of the man's words after he'd paired his wife's visits - at a certain psychiatric office - with infidelity.

"Well, what do ye think I should do about it?" His Irish accent was getting thicker, the more agitated he became. He was only about in his early 40s, not a bad looking fellow. He was mostly trim, though it looked like he worked out to keep his fondness for ale from showing, and had close cropped brown hair and notably blue eyes. He worked for a local business office in the city. He was also not the picture of calm and stable at the moment.

"Your wife, Molly, is it?"

"It is," the man confirmed, twisting the edge of his suit coat anxiously. His chiseled face contained hope, fear and condemnation.

L needed to tread this ground carefully. "Was there any reason you're given to believe she was _seeking _counseling?"

The man before him had handed him a bit of a situation. It had taken him off guard to say the least. The accusations were of a tricky nature.

"Doctor!" Joe Finnegan's voice rose sharply. "That's 'ardly the point 'ere, is it?!" He was now beside himself with anger. With panic. He was losing control of his emotions.

His volatility set L's nerves on edge. From what he'd observed thus far, this man had a propensity for losing self control and seemed the type to give in to violence.

He focused on calming his patient down, trying to redirect him back to normalcy. "I understand that Joe, I do." The man's wide eyes fixed on him. He was listening at least. "But you have more information than I do, and I need to know the things you know. You have to help me so that I can help you." So far so good. "Is that fair enough?" he prompted, trying to get a rapport going again. A conversation would give rise to rationality more than the one-sided explosion the man seemed headed for.

Mr. Finnegan nodded. "Fair," he said a little raspily. He cleared his throat. "Fair enough."

Joe suspected her of cheating. Though the infidelity was, as of yet, unconfirmed. But, the manner in which it would have been happening, through a mental health office, was of personal import to L. L had anticipated something like this. It had only been a matter of time, what with the methods_ that person _chose to employ...

"So," L continued, tapping the point of his pen gently against his ruled tablet. "You have _no _idea why she might have felt the need to talk to someone?" he prodded gently. He suspected that, regardless of what was transpiring at that office, the wife might have had a genuine reason to be there. At least initially. In order to diffuse Joe, the ticking time bomb, he had to get to the root of the marital problems.

"Not a whit," Joe said, his voice harsh with frustration. He ran his hand roughly through his spiky, gelled hair, like he wanted to pull it out. "There's nothin'."

"And how you discovered that she was seeking counseling-"

"I followed 'er!" Joe jumped to his feet and started pacing. "Of course I followed 'er." He was muttering now. "Who wouldn't? She was sneakin' 'round. Keeping it a secret."

L chewed the inside of his lip as he considered the man's instability and how he could continue this without setting him off. "Might she have kept it a secret for other reasons? Trouble at home?"

"Doctor! There is **no** way. She's not goin' there for-" he jabbed sharply at the air with his finger "-for _counselin'_! She's met somebody. And when I find de arsehole who's takin' my wife away from me, I'm goin' to slit 'is bealin' throat-!"

"Joe, please sit down."

"At first, maybe," he continued to rant, still gesturing wildly. "Maybe we 'ad some issues she'd be wantin' to complain about. Sure! Fine! I'm a reasonable man. Even I could see somethin' like that." Aggression was practically pouring off of him._ Tick, tick, tick..._

"Joe, listen to me. You cannot idly threaten someone's life. If anyone hears you, there is not much I can do to help you." He appealed to his patient's sense of self-preservation, hoping he had some left.

"Oh, this is no idle threat. I'll teach 'er to cheat on me-!"

"Joe," L tried again. He was totally losing him. "Even if Molly had feelings of some sort for anyone at that office, it doesn't mean the sentiments are returned." Joe hadn't voiced a name for this office she was going to, but he deeply suspected that it was the one at which Light worked. How many of the people that were employed there functioned as the brunet did - offering extra services?

"Coming 'ome, blushing like a teenage girl. She thinks I can't see it?" he raged. "She thinks I'm stupid? Wouldn't notice her wettin' another man's wick? I'll find 'im. I'll find that bloody bastard and prune the testicles right off de gobshite before 'e can blink twice. Making a slag out of my Molly. I'll fucking kill 'im."

* * *

When L got home that evening, he fell upon his bed face first and didn't move for a good 15 minutes.

At this point, his phone buzzed in his pocket, happily informing him that he had a message.

Some days... some days his patients drained the absolute life from his very bones.

He ignored the message in favor of his thoughts.

What were the odds that Molly was a patient of Light's? Was the brunet destined to die at the hands of his own questionable professional practices and one jealous husband or boyfriend too many?

_It would be his own damn fault,_ L thought petulantly, even as worry gnawed in his gut. _He's quite intelligent... would he really work himself into a corner like this? _How far did he take things with his patients?

Were there limits to what he found acceptable or was anyone fair game?  
(_Like me?_)

A soft, musical pipping alerted L of an incoming call. With a weighted sigh, he dragged his cell out of his pocket and up to his ear, not bothering to lift his face from where he'd planted it on the bed.

"Hello?" he said, muffled slightly by the bed sheets.

"Tough day at the office?"

Light.

Irritation and calm fought within him at the sound of the brunet's voice. "What makes you say that?"

"Probably not the fact that you sound like you are burying your head in your mattress and at such an early hour..." he said in a mockingly speculative voice. "Let's say... it's my intuition."

"What do you want?" L muttered, rolling over upon his back and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Damn. How had the other man come to anticipate even something such as that? L was sure Light had never seen him do it.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Patient confidentiality?"

"Something like that."

There was a brief silence, and L debated bringing up Molly Finnegan. He really wanted to know, and yet he didn't want to know. The last thing he wanted to hear was that Molly was Light's patient or that the two were boning each other, though it could be that she was seeing someone_ else _at the office. At the same time, he was more than a little concerned that Joe presented a real threat.

_But it's not my place to offer out warnings or tell him what to do. _But if I don't...

Instead of pursuing that directly, he went for determining the purpose of the brunet's call. His voice sounded mildly suspicious and overly bland as he said, "Were you calling to see if you could take me out for that drink I'll probably say 'no' to?"

Light laughed quietly. It was hard to tell if it was genuine or not. "That _would_ seem to be a foolish endeavor," he agreed solemnly. There was a weighty pause before he continued. "However," he drawled lazily, "I happen to know that a certain someone has already agreed to be a _sight _more _**compliant **_than that."

Some quality to Light's rich, suggestive voice made it sound like the brunet was speaking directly into his ear. L felt butterflies in his stomach. "Really?" he replied archly, as if the breath hadn't seemed to have been knocked out of him. Suddenly it was as if they were back in L's office again, where this so-called 'conversation' took place. There hadn't been many words exchanged, to be honest. He'd been coerced using more physical methods. "That would be a rather stupid thing to agree to, blindly."

There was no conviction in his voice. He was already getting caught in this game between them where words were just words and tone and inflection ruled all. It could happen without a moment's notice. One minute, everything was normal. The next, he was getting trapped and tangled in web that he couldn't escape from. One that he couldn't be sure he wanted to escape from. It was like his body would freeze and his mind started working at half speed. Light's voice thrummed through him, reaching deep inside him to resonate and bend him to his will.

"It's not stupid to know when to give in," Light said enigmatically.

L let out a shaky breath as his body flushed. "The deal was one drink," he said in what he hoped was a firm voice, responding already to the lascivious quality of the brunet's voice which was making a mess of him.

"The deal was whatever I say." Light's tone was sensual and entitled, hiding a smile. "_Anything _I say."

L shuddered as reaction rippled through him, violating his efforts to keep it at bay. He sat up, shaking his head and pulling the phone further from his ear. _Remember Molly. _"I want to talk to you about something."

"Then it looks like it would be in your best interests to meet me for that drink."

"But-" he didn't want a drink, he wanted to get to the bottom of this.

"But nothing," Light interrupted smoothly. "I'll see you at seven. Old Bank of England Pub."

"_Light_," he implored. "If you'd just-"

"Don't make a liar out of yourself, Lawliet," came the imperious command. (_Don't break our deal, _that was what he was really saying_.)_

L growled as the phone went dead in his hand. "Why are you so-! So strong-headed! Damnit!" But he knew the answer to that. It's just how the brunet was. And he'd likely had _years _of getting away with it. Years of fawning followers hanging off of his every word, encouraging his personality to warp quite unfavorably.

He was equally annoyed that Light could convince him half the time to just go along with it.

"Gah!" He ran his hands through his hair, destroying any semblance of order. He wished he'd never heard of Molly Finnegan. He didn't even know the woman and he was thoroughly jealous of her potential connection to Light.

"Mrrow?"

Blackie padded into the room, tilting her head at him.

"That was the sound of me losing my mind," he told her. "Don't worry about it, you'll still get fed."

She hopped up onto the bed, or tried to - missing the mark. For her lack of upward mobility, she compensated with claws and the willpower of a natural rock-face climber.

The stressed sound of cloth under claws made him wince.

"Mrr-ow!" she announced triumphantly as she reached her goal then walked over to jump onto his lap.

He rubbed his hand over her head, which she seemed quite pleased with. "Lucky you, not caring about the plight of humans."

She purred loudly.

He heaved a sigh and picked up his phone again. Pushing buttons, he tried to determine the location of the bar he'd never been to and the best way to get there.

* * *

It was a little chilled and drizzly that evening. L turned up the collar on his long, fitted, black wool peacoat as he looked down the street and waited for a break in traffic. It came soon enough and he crossed over to the Victorian grey stone building, his destination.

The door was rather grandiose. An oversized, recessed setting in stone held the large dark wood doors with their brass panels and handles and the ornate, wood framed glass above them which still bore the gold and black letters "The Old Bank of England". Apparently, the pub was a renovation of a closed bank and had become fairly popular. He'd read a bit about it online while looking up directions. The building was almost one hundred years old, now, but the restorations made it look current. He could see inside a little, through the embellished panes of glass in the thick wood of the doors. The interior looked expansive, high-ceilinged, and teeming with people.

He grabbed hold of a brass handle with his gloved hand and swung the door open.

The view struck him dumb. It was amazing. He'd always liked architecture and this old place had been beautified, refurbished and made to shine. Lustrous dark wood was the unifying theme. Thick gold molding upon the soaring ceiling and walls, with cinnamon colored accents, lent a rich, elegant warmth to the space. Wrought iron banisters with polished wood tops trailed the stairs and the second floor. Everything wrapped around the central focus of the bar with its carved chocolate colored wood, black granite tops, and central structure of bottle lined shelves that would have required the use of a ladder to access its lofty heights. Brass chandeliers leaned down from the ceiling on either end of it.

He shuffled inside, trying not to look so obviously fascinated and awed by the place as he looked up and over and all around.

Murals decorated the walls in certain areas, and diamond patterns in cream and black swept dizzyingly across the tiled floors where there wasn't carpet.

It was beautiful. Just beautiful. And totally packed.

Ten to seven at night was a little early for most pubs to be_ this _busy. Every small table he could see in the wings, nooks and crannies seemed to be taken and the bar was equally swarmed.

L took off his gloves and shoved them into his coat pockets as he kept walking.

_How did I never realize this was here? What a waste._

It wasn't horribly, terribly, far from where he lived, though he had to take a bit of a drive to get to it. He should probably make a point of branching out and visiting places that were further than walking distance in the future.

Everywhere, people were drinking, talking, laughing and eating. There was the clinking of dinnerware, the gleam of light upon the rims of glasses and upon other shining accents in the room. It should have felt a little crowded but the layout and the super high ceilings removed that impression and gave one of sumptuous elegance instead.

_With a bar this big, they must have quite a selection._

L managed to slip into a small gap in people at the counter and soon caught the eye of one of the bartenders. After finished dispensing the orders he'd taken already, he came over to take L's.

"What can I do you for?" the young man said with a smile.

L ignored the wordplay, figuring it was a patented fishing for an extra tip - something he had no interest in entertaining. He tipped well enough regardless. Unless, of course, the person was a complete shame to the profession. Then, that was another matter entirely. "Do you have Bowmore?"

"Do I 'ave Bowmore, 'e asks me!" the bartender laughed good-naturedly, his voice carrying to his workmates. He leaned over, elbow on the bar and said with a wink, "12 year, 18 year, Darkest 15 or Legend?"

_Wow. Color me impressed._"I'll have the-"

"18 year, served neat. Am I right?"

"You're certainly trying to earn a big tip tonight."

The bartender chummily put both of his elbows on the bar top and grinned. "Go on, say you're impressed. I won't mind." His eyes panned over L a bit. "I'll even tell you 'ow I called it."

"Tell me how you knew," L countered easily, "and maybe I'll tell you I'm impressed."  
_Is he hitting on me? _He didn't want to assume, but he was getting the distinct impression...

"**I'd **be impressed if he could actually manage to find you that drink, instead of wasting time ogling you," Light said blandly, materializing at L's elbow. He spoke quite loudly enough to be perfectly audible to the young man behind the counter who was now glaring at him as he went to fetch the drink.

"Always one to make an entrance, I see," L said, glancing over at him.

It being so crowded, they were in exceedingly tight quarters, practically pushed against each other where they stood at the counter.

Light shrugged. "And I see you arrived early. Eager to get a head start on me?"

"Hardly," L said drolly. "Though maybe I should have, seeing as you're such a lightweight."

"Sticks and stones," the brunet said, tossing his bangs out of his eyes. "What did you order?"

"An 18 year old Bowmore."

"Oh, aren't we a Scotch snob," Light teased.

"If I wanted to be a snob about it, I'd have ordered a room temperature bottled water to go with it."

Light grinned at him. "Ultimate snobbery. Who would have thought?"

"Here you are," the bartender said a few minutes later, sliding a squat, stemmed glass snifter with a warm amber colored liquid swirling the bottom in front of L. The barkeep spared another irritated look at Light for having interrupted earlier, before looking back at L and turning the charm back on and starting to chat him up.

Light propped his chin on his hand and regarded him with an impassive stare. "He's taken, you know."

The young man had the look of stifled anger. "Who are you to-"

"To interrupt?" Light shrugged with a smile. "Just someone who really wants to order a drink and is trying to figure out why the bartender isn't tending his bar very well."

This got a flustered reaction from the pub employee. "I'm sorry, sir." He bowed slightly, in overly formal, almost Edwardian apology. "What'll you 'ave?"

"What he's having. It wouldn't do to mix alcohols, am I right?"

Some small understanding dawned upon the bartender and he looked back and forth between the two of them. Before he made up his mind whether to take the comment as an indication to give up, he went to fetch the other drink.

L wiped a hand over his face. "Honestly," he muttered. "Must you?"

"What? I thought that was quite tactful, considering."

"I suspect you also ordered the same thing as you couldn't have helped but notice he had to use the ladder to get mine."

"Indeed," Light agreed amiably. He picked up L's glass and took a sip, while also pulling a damp piece of paper off of the bottom.

"What's that?" L asked, deciding not to comment on the abduction of his drink.

Light handed it to him and he saw that it had a phone number upon it.

"Let's see if he tries to slip you another one," Light commented blithely as he took another sip. "This is really quite good. Never quite got used to the smell of Scotch, though."

"I'm not getting my drink back, am I?"

"Yours is on the way." Light paused, swirling the amber liquid in its glass. "Hmmn. Do you think I should leave you alone with your new friend? I wouldn't want to interrupt a budding relationship."

"Give me that," L said, swiping his glass back and tipping it to his lips. _Stealing my drink. Please. Like I'd let that slide so easily. _The scotch was smooth and strong, making his mouth burn and tingle pleasantly as it rolled over his tongue. It was one he had only ever had on rare occasions. His eyes closed as he savored it.

"You drink scotch like you're having an orgasm," Light said, gazing at him with his eyes at half mast, a sexy smile lingering about his lips.

The bartender chose that moment to return. "Um, your drink, sir," he said, sliding the new glass towards L as he stared at him a little fixedly.

L lowered his empty glass. It wasn't lost on him that the drink was supposed to go to Light. It seemed the bartender was confused or perhaps a little distracted. "Thank you, Uh-"

"Todd," the bartender said, re-engaging immediately. "It's a good year, isn't it?" His tone and gaze were encouraging, and he looked like he was waiting for L to take another drink. His eyes strayed briefly to L's lips, which were still tingling from the alcohol.

"I tend to like it," L said in agreement, wondering how long their bartender was planning on hanging around.

"You seemed to like it a _lot_," Todd said, pulling his bedroom eyes back up to meet L's.

This was starting to become one of the more awkward situations L had experienced at a bar, and he'd certainly had quite a few. Now he'd feel weird if he _did _take another drink with 'Todd' staring at him like that, considering what Light had just said. Which was an utter shame, because he really wanted to have some more of it.

"That _is _why I ordered it," L said, lifting the new glass. "Though this one, I'm afraid, isn't mine."

"It's on me."

"Ah," L said. "But..." He glanced at Light.

Todd the bartender said, "Right then. Hold on."

He disappeared for a minute, and then returned, cracking the top on a longneck which he put in front of Light before promptly ignoring him again. He turned his back slightly, giving his full attention to L. "That one's not a scotch drinker, that much's obvious."

Out of his peripheral vision, he could see Light shrug minimally and take a swig of the bottle of Strongbow. It was true that he wasn't one for scotch, and there was a good chance that a dry cider was exactly the sort of thing he might have ordered, seeing as the bartender appeared to have a good eye for pegging people's tastes, but...

"Go on, 'ave a drink," the young man encouraged. "No one's doing without, now."

L sighed internally and gave in to the call of the Bowmore. If the start of this evening was any indication, he was going to need more than a few sips of alcohol to get him through the rest of it. He did his best to make sure he did not change expression as he did so. He hadn't realized before that he even made any sort of face as he drank.

Contrary to Light's belief, there was no second phone number under this glass. Speaking of the brunet, he seemed to be leaving L to sink or swim on his own. The only indication he was even paying attention to this little exchange, as he placidly sipped his cider, was the brief glance they shared and the amusement at his expense that seemed to lurk in those russet eyes.

L jumped slightly as a hand covered his.

"You aren't together, right?" Todd the bartender said, leaning in and meeting his eyes rather forwardly.

"Not exactly," L said, floundering a little. He didn't know what to do, being hit on by another guy in public for the first time, and being on the receiving end of a heated gaze like that. Not to mention, with Light standing by. If he and Light _were _together, you'd think he'd have the good grace to help bail him out of this instead of sitting there watching the show.

_Jerk._

"I get off at 11," the other man said. He pushed a small, folded piece of paper into L's palm and closed L's fingers around it. His hand was overly warm. L fought the urge to jerk his hand back. He was coming on way too heavy. "I 'ope to see you later." He began to lean in close, like he was in for a kiss.

"Lawliet," Light said, like he was calling him to heel. Both he and the bartender turned to look at him as he put his empty bottle on the bar unhurriedly and tossed down a few bills. "Our table is free."

"What table?" the bartender asked, looking back and forth between them.

Light shrugged off the question as he stood. "Thanks for the drink, but wasn't what I would have ordered. Perhaps you should work a little more on reading the mood of your customers." He accented his statement by placing the tiny folded paper, which he'd taken from L, upon the bar's shiny surface.

"Bollocks," Todd uttered under his breath as they left.

"You certainly took your time," L said with a frown. It seemed Light had actually made some sort of reservation or something, as the place was still as packed as ever, and they did indeed have an open table waiting for them.

"You're a grown man, I figured you could handle it."

L leaned across the table and hissed, "I've told you I'm not accustomed to such things." Honestly! How many times did he have to say it - that before Light, he'd only dated women? It was like the brunet took some kind of perverse joy in making him admit it over and over. "How far were you willing to see that go?"

"It's partly your fault - saying we weren't here together," Light said unrepentantly. "Besides, it was interesting to see how you just utterly buckle under that sort of pressure."

L's frown intensified.

Light smiled infuriatingly at him. He leaned in and took L's hand in his, turning it palm up and smoothing it flat. "Just about everything you did was like an open invitation." He traced a finger upon L's palm and felt L's hand jerk in his. "I'll bet if he started tearing your clothes off, you simply would have stared at him wide-eyed as he did it."

L tried to yank his hand back, the words pissed him off so much.

Light held fast, holding L's eyes with his ruddy amber ones. "I'm not wrong."

"Let go."

"That's why hearing it is pissing you off. You know I'm right."

L regarded him with an intensely unfriendly look.

"Oh, come on, Lawliet, don't be like that," Light soothed. "It's one of your more fascinating qualities. I'm not faulting you for it in the least."

"And somehow that is doing little to mollify me."

"That's because you're ornery."

"You're treading on thin ice, Light." L was becoming increasingly inclined to part company with the brunet, agreement be damned.

"Ok, ok," Light said, releasing him and raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm sorry. Truly. Stay a little longer?" He flashed one of those annoyingly compelling smiles at him. "Please?"

L slanted him an assessing look, debating it.

Light leaned in, and fixed him with wide, innocent, eyes. L knew they were a lie, and a precursor to a performance, but they were still very beautiful. Like cognac amber. "I've misbehaved, and I'm sorry. Sometimes I just can't help myself. Please don't hold it against me?"

"Do those eyes actually work on anyone?"

Light smiled, just the corner of his lips quirking up on one side. "They're working on you at least a little."

"You think so, do you?" L gave him an unimpressed look to demonstrate just how little he was being swayed. Though, in actuality, Light was correct.

"Well, not enough to keep you from being upset with me," he said ruefully. "But perhaps enough to let me buy you dinner and make it up to you?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Then how about another drink?"

"On one condition," L said.

"What might that be?"

"I need to ask you about something."

"Oh, right, you'd mentioned."

L allowed Light to flag down one of the waiters and order them a pair of drinks, like he wanted, before broaching the subject of Molly Finnegan.

"I thought you weren't in the mood for a cider?" L asked, raising a brow as Light took a drink off of a fresh bottle.

He shrugged. "Maybe not, but I'd already started."

"So the bartender was right," L probed.

"He wasn't off. I drink Strongbow often enough. It isn't as sweet some of the others." He looked at L and rolled his eyes. "I never said I _didn't _like it, I just said I wouldn't have picked it at the moment."

L leaned back in his chair and swept a fully assessing, critical gaze over his companion. "Perhaps."

"What?" Light asked, looking suspicious.

"You're so full of it."

For the first time ever, Light looked well and truly startled. "Excuse me?" he got out after a moment or two.

L shook his head and laughed a little, taking a sip of his drink. He could feel Light's eyes on him, busily trying to pry him apart. "You," L said, "were jealous."

"Oh, come now," Light scoffed, leaning back in his chair and raising his bottle to his mouth. His eyes contested the ease of his body language. They were quite sharp and watchful.

"Your fun backfired, and your well-hidden jealousy likes to manifest as low blows and barbed comments. There was no other reason to insult the bartender's assessment of your preferred drink, when he was, in fact, correct about it. At least, correct enough that here you are, having another."

"Do I need to pay you for this session, Doctor?" Light asked with a touch of sarcasm, avoiding confirming or denying what L had said.

In turn, L ignored Light's question and said, "Have you ever had a Mrs. Finnegan as a patient? Molly Finnegan."

Light tilted his head as if in thought. "Molly Finnegan..."

"Or anyone at your office?" L added.

"It's possible," the brunet said. "Though admitting anything of the sort would go against patient confidentiality."

"You're concerned about that, are you?"

"Lawliet, please," Light scoffed. "I'm a professional. Of course it concerns me."

"Forgive me for being surprised. You seemed less bothered with rules than the average person."

"Now that's just rude."

The brunet was wearing a mild frown, but did not seem altogether offended.

They regarded each other over the table for several long moments.

Just before L was about to break the silence, one of the staff whisked by their table and asked if there was anything they wanted. Light ordered two rounds.

"Trying to drink me under the table?" L said blandly. He wondered if more drink was supposed to be a distraction from his questioning.

"Despite what you've come to believe, I can hold my alcohol quite well, thank you. I'd simply had a head start on you the other night."

"What I believe is that we are already past, not one, but two drinks I have agreed to. Are you planning then to keep me here all night?"

"You're the one asking me questions that threaten my professional integrity," the brunet said loftily. "Can you fault a man for wanting to drink through that?"

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Lawliet said.

"If you like," Light replied with a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"So, Molly," L prompted.

"Yes, yes," the brunet said, finishing off his bottle of cider. "The young Mrs. Molly Finnegan. Bright green eyes and bonny red curls, with a face that turns heads no matter where she goes..."

That pesky jealousy L had identified earlier rushed through him in a heartbeat. It was strong enough to burn through the slight haze of well-being the alcohol laid upon him and caused him to tense up.

Light's quick eyes didn't miss a thing.

"So," the brunet said. "Is there a reason for your asking which is beyond personal interest?"

"There is nothing personal about it," L said shortly. He cursed his clipped tone, knowing it was just one more thing giving everything away. "Is there a reason you're avoiding the question?"

"Here you are, sirs," the pub staff member said, unloading four drinks off of their tray.

"Thank you," Light said, pushing a tumbler in front of L and daring him to drink it, despite his plummeting mood. He picked up one of his ciders and took a swig. "Drink through it and I'll tell you something good."

"Why don't you tell me something now?"

"Because," Light said, "if I don't, and you go home now, you won't be getting a single wink of sleep. You'll convince yourself in the moment that you don't care, but later you will curse yourself over and over for not staying."

L did the unthinkable and downed his scotch in two swallows. Light winced, likely from sympathy pains. The drink was very strong and the burn of it was formidable to say the least.

"Alright then," Light said, and downed his cider in a similar manner, not to be outdone.

L was glad he was sitting down. The rush of scotch was going to his head. "Is Molly a patient of yours?" He forcibly pushed Light's glowing description of her out of his mind to lessen the impulse of wanting to punch him.

"No."

They stared at each other once more.

"No?"

"No," Light confirmed.

"Are you lying to me?" L asked. Was he? Mr. Finnegan obviously had some grounds for his suspicions, and Light certainly fit the bill... not to mention his colorful description of the wife...

"No," Light said again. "Though if I were, I'd hardly want to admit as much, would I?"

Had he been with this woman? Had they been involved? Were they involved now? The thought took his mind in its teeth like a dog with a bone. If he was honest, a rather black depression was forming, the more he thought about it.

"In all seriousness," the brunet said. "Why do you ask?"

L took a swallow of his last drink. The joy he'd had from it previously had all but evaporated. Now he was simply getting drunk. It was a horrible association to make - using alcohol to enable you to deal with problems - but that was exactly what he was doing. He hoped it would still the gnawing in his gut.

"Mr. Finnegan," L said simply.

Light searched his face. "Ah, I see."

"I would say more, but I am unable."

"It isn't necessary." Light sighed. "I can gather that he is a jealous type. Possibly hot tempered." He looked at L. "You think I'm in trouble?"

L frowned and took another sip of his drink. Why was everything Light said geared towards confirming his involvement with that woman? He couldn't stand it. "I'm sure you'll be fine." He drained the rest of his glass and rose to his feet. "Thank you for a lovely evening," he said with thinly veiled sarcasm and walked out. _Date? _Please. If he never went on another one like this for the rest of his life, it would be too soon. Just as he'd dreaded, making this... thing... anywhere near official just enabled the whole thing to collapse in on itself. Why had he allowed it in the first place?

He made his way outside, not satisfied until his shoes crunched upon concrete. He paused for a moment to put on his gloves, thinking that if he been one to smoke, now would be a rather appropriate time for it. A nice separation between where one has been and where one is going, and a small warmth against the chill air.

He flipped the collar on his coat up, jammed his hands into his pockets, and crossed the street.

_Was driving a good idea at this point?_ he wondered as he made his way to his car. _Maybe a cab would be better. _As the moments passed, the alcohol was still catching up with him and it didn't look like it would be leaving him in very good shape.

Several long minutes after leaving the bar, reaching his car, his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket. "L," he answered without looking at the screen. On automatic pilot, he'd already fumbled keys into his hand. But he wasn't planning to drive home, right? He'd already decided that would be a foolhardy move...

"Where are you?"

"None of your concern, I'm going home."

"You didn't let me finish."

"Light," he said with exasperation, "that hardly seems necessary." He put his gloved hand on the top of his car and rested his forehead upon it. Closing his eyes, he admitted he'd overdone things. He couldn't tell if his head was spinning with drink or with these pesky emotions he'd been saddled with.

"You've mistaken me, Lawliet." His voice was not outright pleading, but there was a definite thread of stress in it.

L took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, until there was nothing left. It didn't do much to steady him.

"Molly does frequent the office," he explained, "but she isn't my patient."

"Was she ever your patient?"

"Yes, but I had to shift her to another doctor. She showed strong tendencies towards obsessive behavior and I felt it all too likely that she might fall to stalking if she wasn't handled appropriately."

L frowned. So was she seeing another doctor but had her stalker sights set on Light? Or was she smitten with whoever the new doctor was?

"Listen, Lawliet... I can't really say more for now. But, when I described her earlier, I was just winding you up a little. I'm sorry."

He felt infinitesimally better. Sort of. "I have to go." He pressed the end call button on his phone, though it was hard to do with gloves on.

"You aren't planning on driving are you?"

L pressed the button again, firmly, and tossed the phone back into his pocket. Oh, he was entirely too drunk right now. For anything. If he couldn't manage a phone he wondered if even hailing a cab would be possible.

"Lawliet?"

Light's voice coming from right beside him and a touch upon his shoulder made him jump a mile high and nearly gave him a heart attack. "What're you-?!"

The brunet was wearing a frown and looked a little concerned. He lifted his phone up for L to consider and waved it a bit. "I followed the sound of your voice. But, never mind that. You aren't planning on driving, are you?"

"No, no," L said, leaning back against the side of his car and putting a hand to his head. "Was gonna get a cab."

Light took up a spot next to him. Their shoulders brushed and his body language as stiff as the frown still upon his face. He looked pointedly forward, not sparing a glance his way. "I was too surprised when I thought you might be concerned for my safety... I didn't handle it well. Didn't say the right thing, obviously." Light slid his hands into the pockets of his long coat, a self-deprecating sigh escaping him. "I wanted to confirm it, and chose my words accordingly. I suppose I hadn't realized how it would sound." He glanced at L then, who was remaining quiet for the moment. "I'd say it was because of the alcohol affecting me, but that might seem a bit irresponsible, wouldn't it?"

_Yes, it would be. _L leaned his head back against the car, closing his eyes. Why now, after he'd made up his mind? Light's words sounded all too reasonable. It set his mind to racing, picking over and replaying previous scenes. He was of no faculty to be sifting through facts and lies. "I'm too drunk for this."

"Maybe you should sleep it off?"

L jumped in surprise. He wasn't really suggesting _they _sleep it off around here? As in, together? But his tone certainly implied... "I'm sorry?"

"Right down the street there," Light said, putting his head close to L's and pointing down his line of sight to an inn. L noticed an arm draping over his shoulders as well. Maybe it was the alcohol talking but it wasn't merely tension he felt at the brunet's sudden closeness. "You see it?"

"No," L said. Maybe there was an inn, maybe there wasn't. He couldn't properly focus enough on such things. His head was a maelstrom of anxiety and relief and paranoid fear.

Light turned to face him. Since they were already so close, it practically had them near enough to kiss. L's heart started pounding as Light hesitantly leaned in that last little bit, tentatively touching his mouth with soft lips.

It was so gentle, and poignant.

The feeling twisted in L's chest, bittersweet, and he couldn't sever the connection. He couldn't win against the quiet exploration of regretful lips, couldn't pull away from the slender hand that rose to cup his face.

He felt totally overwhelmed.

He wanted nothing more than to believe that it was ok to have feelings for this difficult, fascinating, infuriating person who was capable of such tenderness. His heart told him to take a chance, meanwhile his mind threw up all manner of warnings and foretold disaster.

* * *

TBC

**A/N: **Moving was SO not fun. For months!

Strongbow is really good and available in the States. I heartily recommend it to anyone of age.


End file.
